Rise To Power: The Golden Couple
by JustAnotherNinetiesBitch
Summary: Pre-series. Before Emily Thorne descended upon them, the Grayson family were Hampton's royalty.
1. Prelude

**September 1985 – New York, JFK Airport**

The majority of the passengers aboard the transatlantic flight shut their minds down into a light slumber – undoubtedly, an attempt to warn off the inevitable jet-lag. Thankfully, it meant none were witness to her tears.

On account of her childhood, Victoria Harper didn't cry very often. As a little girl, her mother had regularly ignored any pleas Victoria made for a hint of maternal comfort. Though Pascal didn't deserve her tears, they, and the sickness in her stomach, born from her emotional turmoil, refused to cease and Victoria was grateful for the darkness that shrouded the plane, both internally and externally.

In the row beside hers, the small child that had made her objections to their earlier ascent from Paris had been lulled to sleep in her father's arms, oblivious to the familiar horror their descent into New York would inflict. While many nearby passengers had expressed their irritation at the baby, Victoria had been far too dazed to notice the intolerable screams. The mere sight of a child reminded her of the foolish dreams her lovesick mind had hastily concocted; a dark-haired child with a charming French accent and infectious giggle, just one of many.

How contradictory her flight home was, in comparison to the high-spirits of her journey, just 12 hours previously. After several months apart, she made the ingenious decision to surprise Pascal, only to discover his passionate proclamations of love and their tormented goodbyes the day her temporary visa expired were the furthest thing from Pascal's mind. The fresh orchids flown to her daily, a romantic gesture to remind her of how much time had passed since their involuntary separation, were merely constructed to assuage his guilt. The uncensored images of Pascal and the unidentifiable female played relentlessly in her mind; the arch of her back, his erotic moan. Victoria's finger drew the invisible pattern of a circle upon her left temple and forced her eyes shut, in a hopeless effort to deny the betrayal she had witnessed first-hand.

Passengers began to stir as the male voice addressed them via the speakerphone and Victoria automatically clicked her seatbelt back into its lock. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. It's 19:15 and we'll be arriving shortly in New York, in approximately fifteen minutes." On professional cue, the air hostesses began an extensive check of all passengers seatbelts and Victoria spied the bright lights of her home through the oval window. "For the consideration of those passengers remaining aboard for the forward flight to Dallas-Fortworth International Airport, we're expected to arrive in Dallas at our scheduled arrival time of 23:45. Those of you leaving us, on behalf of Delta Airlines and the entire crew, I would like to thank you for flying with us and we look forward to having you on-board in the near future."

As the plane began its weary descent into the hurricane season of New York, Victoria braced herself for one of the coldest winters she had endured in years. The Mediterranean warmth she had so desperately pined for had been erased from her heart, in one mindless betrayal. What the future held, she couldn't fathom.

* * *

The half-hour drive from their penthouse apartment in the city to the JFK airport was hounded by silence. Every time Conrad Grayson's lips parted to voice at least one of his concerns, his throat dried and clenched up. In the same impulsive breath that his wife had announced her decision to enter rehabilitation, she demanded he have her driven to the airport, in order to the catch the first available flight out of New York.

" _There's a rehabilitation clinic in California, it's one of the best in the country."_ The Betty Ford Center had become a world-renowned treatment center for abusers of either drugs or alcohol, sometimes both. _"I figured, if it's good enough for Elizabeth Taylor…"_

The sudden intensity of the international airport felt alien to his senses. In the wait for her flight, Conrad withdrew into his mentally protective shell. There was so much he failed to understand. Why did she have to enter a clinic over two thousand miles away? What had provoked her sudden change of heart? Every plea he made to have her consult with her personal physician had been shut down. Most importantly, was her absence as temporary as the twelve-steps she would endure, or as permanent as the after-effects?

As she rose to her feet, Conrad snapped back into reality. "Now boarding at gate 5, the 19:45 to Los Angeles International Airport. That's the 19:45 to LAX with Delta Airlines, now boarding."

"Steph..." How helpless he must have appeared, in that moment, like a little boy lost.

"Goodbye, Conrad." The poignancy of the moment reflected in the serenity of her voice and the wavering, half-hearted smile that flickered across her lips. Away she walked, suitcase in hand. No kiss on the cheek, no warm embrace and not once did she glance back over her shoulder.

Patiently, he waited and watched with intent until the sight of her platinum blonde curls left his vision. He couldn't quite decipher the strongest emotion; his relief that she had finally sought the help she so desperately needed or sadness that her decision could be the beginning of the end. Their marriage had always relied on her absolute dependency, for his love and his affection. When that dependency overwhelmed him, overpowered him almost, she directed her desires to a far more attentive master. If the 'spiritual awakening' Steph embarked upon meant she would have to rid herself of that dependency defect, would their marriage even stand a chance? The absolute uncertainty of his future dawned upon Conrad; it left him with an itching unease. Should Steph decide to begin proceedings for a legal separation, after her stint in rehab, what would become of his future?

A flood of exhausted passengers from a recent arrival surged through the airport and tore him from his reverie. Unbeknownst to Conrad, the raven-haired woman that despondently followed the stream of wanderers through the terminal was just the answer he had been searching for.


	2. An Artful Introduction

**April 1986 – New York, Acquavella** **Galleries**

"Mark my words, Pascal. The economy is changing and Grayson Global is at the forefront of that change."

Pascal LeMarchal rolled his eyes. If it weren't the mutually beneficial relationship between Grayson Global and LeMarchal Media, Pascal wouldn't have given Conrad the time of day. Aside from their booming bank accounts, Conrad and Pascal were two different entities. While Pascal had endured the blood, sweat and tears to become a self-made man, Conrad had merely inherited his father's fortune. "Grayson Global, huh?"

"I'm not just taking my father's company international, I'm taking it worldwide and you can be part of that." Finally, the time had come for Conrad to prove his worth and he was determined to become an even bigger success story than his father had been.

The two businessmen sought refuge from the jungle that was New York City and entered the art gallery, where Pascal awaited further persistence from Conrad that never came. Instead, Conrad appeared mesmerised – hypnotized, even – by something, or someone, in the distance and Pascal followed his line of vision to the raven-haired woman. His own heart skipped its regular beat, as he immediately recognised her. "Excuse me?" He raised his hand to Conrad, who had just snapped from his reverie, and slowly approached the woman he hadn't seen in eight months. "Victoria?"

Every muscle in her body tightened, tense as she reluctantly, slowly, turned on point to face him. "Pascal."

"How are you?" A great sense of nostalgia washed over Pascal and the vision of Victoria was like a breath of fresh air for him. Eight months had passed since their separation, the fateful night Victoria discovered him with another woman and Victoria appeared to have evolved into an even greater beauty than before.

"I'm well, thank you." She politely replied, dismissively returning her full attention to the piece of artwork she had previously been in the middle of observing before Pascal's interruption.

Disappointment clouded his expression, "Victoria…"

A hand on his shoulder prevented any further words and Conrad flashed him an apologetic look. For weeks, Pascal had done his best to evade a commitment between their companies and Conrad refused to allow him another chance to escape until Pascal provided a definitive answer. "I hate to interrupt but I'm a busy man, Pascal." At his commanding voice, Victoria's head turned back and Conrad broke his feigned ignorance of her presence. "I beg your pardon? I don't believe we've been introduced. Conrad Grayson."

The look of irritation on Pascal's face at Conrad's interference spurred Victoria on and she readily accepted the hand stretched out before her. "Victoria Harper." For a second longer than usual, their hands remained joined together and Victoria found herself lured in by the opalescence in his arctic blue eyes. They were magnetic and his aura was one of assured charm.

Conrad motioned to Pascal, "Mr LeMarchal and I were just in the middle of an informal business meeting but –"

"Please don't let me interrupt," Victoria withdrew her hand from Conrad and flashed Pascal a cool smile. "It was nice to see you again, Pascal." The bluntness of her tone insinuated their accidental collision had been anything but and Conrad stifled his amusement at the look of dejection upon his opponent's face.

Once Victoria removed herself from the conversation, Conrad watched and waited for Pascal to refocus his mind onto their business discussion but, instead, Pascal shook his head and frowned. "I'm sorry, Conrad." The rejection from Victoria had knocked Pascal off-kilter. Although she had gone M.I.A. since her return to New York, he had been certain that, if they were ever reunited, their love would somehow be rekindled. To have her rebuff him in such a manner confirmed his fears that she had, in fact, shunned their dream of a life together in Paris. What pained him the most was that he had nobody to blame but himself. "Now isn't the time for LeMarchal Media to enter into a commitment with Grayson Global. Excuse me?" Without another word, Pascal raised his hand to silence Conrad's attempt to protest and whirled from the art gallery, at the speed of a tornado. Deserted, Conrad scrunched the promotional leaflet, he had been handed upon entrance to the gallery, into a tight ball within his fist and internally cursed Pascal.

* * *

After fifteen minutes of acute observation, Victoria finally approached Conrad. Since Pascal's stormy departure, he had loitered in the gallery, flitting back and forth between various pieces, simultaneously feigning interest in the art and peaking her interest in him. "Mr Grayson?" With her hands clutched at her abdomen, Victoria craned her neck and motioned to the piece Conrad stood underneath. "I see you've become quite infatuated with the Reinhardt piece." In actuality, Conrad had remained in the gallery to soothe his own curiosity. Any frustration he possessed after Pascal's rejection had been side-lined by a throbbing intrigue to discover just who this Victoria Harper was. In the years Conrad had been acquainted with Pascal, the Frenchman had fancied himself quite the lothario but he had never allowed a woman to interfere with business... until Victoria.

"There are many things I've become infatuated with, Miss Harper." If it weren't for the longing in his eyes, Victoria might have laughed away his remark. He flashed a charismatic grin, at her speechlessness. "It's an extraordinary piece." He boldly stated, for his knowledge of art was quite limited. While Conrad had made Grayson Global his sole focus, Steph had embraced the more cultural side of their lifestyle; luncheons and art auctions were all part of her mastery but, during her eight month absence, Conrad had been forced to navigate such events alone.

Victoria returned her attention to the art, "It doesn't quite have the freedom of De Kooning's work, though."

Impressed by her knowledgeable evaluation, Conrad's eyebrow rose. It wasn't often that Conrad encountered a woman with the kind of education that challenged his own. "De Kooning?"

"Willem De Kooning," Victoria confirmed. "He led the revolution of abstract expressionism in the 1950's. He's Dutch but he's lived in New York for much of his life. He actually has a studio in East Hampton." Her connection with art, which had been her only sanctuary or safe haven, shone through her words. "His work fascinates me."

"I'll certainly keep that in mind," Conrad assured, further mesmerised by Victoria. "In fact, my office is in need of major overhaul. It's actually the reason I suggested Pascal and I discuss business here." A look of enlightenment settled over Victoria's features, surprised to discover her and Pascal's meeting had been purely accidental. She had assumed Pascal had sought her out of his own volition; he certainly had the resources to do as much and there was always an ulterior motive behind Pascal's actions. It was one of the immediate traits Victoria identified within him, along with his defiant ambition. In spite of her bitterness over his betrayal, there was no doubt in her mind that Pascal LeMarchal would become _someone_. "You seem quite the art connoisseur. I don't suppose you have any suggestions?"

"Well, if you're in the market, it just so happens I know someone who may be willing to sell a De Kooning piece." Upon her return to New York, her adoration of art acquainted her with Dominik Wright. Their romantic involvement quickly evolved and became far more profitable than either would have imagined. The scheme had been successful many times before and Victoria's confidence in their partnership had grown; Dominik had the steady-handed skill to forge irreplaceable classics and Victoria had the undeniable charm to sell them for an extravagant price. "I might even be able to commission it for you." That peaked Conrad's interest. According to his father, nothing aroused a woman like the number of noughts on a cheque and Conrad was in no position to disagree with him. "Unless, you would rather have someone else oversee the transaction?"

"No, no..." Conrad shook his head. For whatever reason, the opportunity to see Victoria again tantalised him. "I think I can trust you," he chuckled, in amusement. "After all, any friend of Pascal's is a friend of mine."

"While I appreciate the sentiment, Mr Grayson, I would hesitate to label my relationship with Mr LeMarchal as friendship," Victoria corrected him and Conrad inwardly laughed; he wondered what dastardly crime Pascal had committed to evoke such a venomous reaction at the mere mention of him. Whatever it was, it only proved to further entice Conrad to the practical stranger before him.

"My apologies. In that case, I can only hope you won't hold our friendship against me?" Evermore doubtful of the man before her, Victoria cocked her head. The name Conrad Grayson had cropped up in conversation once or twice before and she received the impression of anything but friendship from Pascal.

"Of course not." Victoria reached inside her purse for a pen and hastily scribbled digits on the promotional leaflet in her hands. "Call this number tomorrow? I'll get in contact with the seller and we'll see if we can't strike a deal."

The formality of her nature amused Conrad; the majority of women drooled over him, as if he had an air about him – "the smell of money" – Steph had jokingly dubbed it. Whatever it was, Victoria appeared entirely unaffected by him. It only inspired Conrad to warrant her affection that much more. In spite of the female attention Conrad had received – and taken full advantage of – during Steph's eight month absence, the string of women brought little solace to the empty nights. His introduction to Victoria was the first time that thoughts of his wife hadn't relentlessly clouded his mind until there was nothing but darkness. He stretched his hand forward to meet hers and softly pressed his lip against her knuckles, "I look forward to seeing you again, Miss Harper."


	3. The Affair

**May 1986 – New York, The Grayson Pied-à-Terre**

"You son of a bitch."

It wasn't the first time someone had violated her – Victoria had almost become accustomed to such treatment.

Her hostile outrage made little difference to his stone-cold bravado. "Are you going to deny your involvement with this man?" The photographs spoke for themselves on that level. In spite of the poor contrast, the intimacy of her body wrapped in another man's arms was evident.

Victoria flicked recklessly through the collection of photographs, which she assumed had been taken by a hired P.I.. In one shot, a waterfall of jet black curls cascaded down her exposed back and Dominik's mouth brushed against the peak of her chest. "How dare you?" The invasion of her privacy snatched what little dignity Victoria had somehow mustered, since the abuse suffered in her childhood. "How dare you have me followed?"

"My dear, I think you're missing the larger revelation." A deep laugh of irony escaped his throat, as Conrad poured himself another drink. In the weeks since their chance-meeting, a passionate love affair had ensued but Conrad had been foolish enough to think her feelings were as genuine as his. The day his father had presented him with the deed to the 'Grayson bachelor pad' as Edward liked to call it, Conrad had denied that he would ever betray his wife in such a manner and nine years of marriage had passed until Conrad finally lost ground. The months without Steph had been impossible and Conrad had indulged in a string of women but Victoria was the first, the only one, to weave her way into his heart. Nevertheless, her deception denounced the end of the affair. He wouldn't tolerate that kind of duplicity, not even from his mistress. "Who is he?"

Victoria defiantly pressed her lips together. "He's someone I was involved with long before I met you." His eyes rolled and he furiously gulped at the amber liquid that ravaged his throat.

His embittered expression and refusal to meet her eye threatened to resurrect the feelings of worthlessness that Victoria had desperately buried. He didn't need to spit the derogatory name at her for Victoria to know what he thought. "Am I to assume that, whenever you weren't here with me, you were with him?"

She frantically blinked away the tears that relentlessly stung her eyes; she refused to allow Conrad that kind of satisfaction. His attack was cruel and unjust, the hypocrisy almost inconceivable and Victoria's temper reached boiling point. "You have no right to take the moral high ground. You're the one married to another woman." How deep her knowledge of his life was stunted Conrad and Victoria narrowed her eyes to deliver the final blow, "You were never going to tell me about her, were you?"

"Victoria –"

It had been yet another bitter disappointment. The happiness that Victoria craved just inches away, only to learn that Conrad Grayson was not the carefree bachelor he had led her to believe. That the heated love affair they engaged in would reach its inevitable end and, perhaps, after all, Dominik was her future. Conrad Grayson and Dominik Wright were two extremes, so unique from one another. Still, both had the capacity to overwhelm her with the kind of love Victoria had once believed herself to be undeserving of. With Dominik, though, life held an uncertainty that unnerved Victoria. Unlike Conrad, Dominik lacked the heritage to allow himself the greatest of opportunities in life and, unlike Victoria, it didn't bother him. He thrived in the instability, he rejoiced in every curveball of life that sent Victoria reeling... into Conrad's arms, his open arms like a safe harbour. Suddenly, she didn't belong in that harbour. "You don't have to explain yourself, Conrad."

How the tables had turned, it was suddenly Conrad who had done wrong. "Victoria." He discarded his drink and rushed to prevent her abrupt departure before he could exert damage control. "Listen to me –"

"To what? How your wife doesn't understand you?" She mockingly offered the cliché explanation, one she had witnessed her mother fall for so many times by the married lovers Marion had flip-flopped between. "I don't dance to that tune, Conrad. I won't be made a fool of." Patiently, she had waited for Conrad to confide in her, hopeful, that he would reveal his intention to divorce his wife and marry her instead; it had been a fool's errand.

"Steph's an alcoholic." The confession glued Victoria's feet to the ground. "She's been in California for the past nine months as an outpatient of a clinic and her doctor has supported her decision to stay there until she feels emotionally stable enough to return." The fact that his wife failed to consult him with such a crucial decision didn't faze Conrad. After all, she had made little attempt to reach out and repair the damage her alcoholism had caused their marriage or comprehend how her behaviour affected him. "She wasn't a drinker when I met her." In the early days of their relationship, one glass of wine would have been enough to send her spiralling into another universe the second her head hit the pillow. "Slowly, over the years, it became obvious that she had a drinking problem and the marriage became a ticking time bomb." His words were spoken in a hushed whisper, in a poor attempt to withhold the emotion that overpowered his sense of self-control. "Whatever I did, whatever I said only seemed to upset her more." From his inside pocket, Conrad retrieved the photograph tucked inside his wallet and offered it to Victoria. It had been captured on the steps of the church, moments after they had been officially declared Mr and Mrs Grayson. Wisps of Steph's blonde hair entangled with her veil, the bouquet in one hand and his in the other; the smiles on their faces said it all. He could still recall the chill in the air as he and Steph raced, hand in hand, through the church doors. It had been a childhood dream of hers to marry in December. In spite of the misery of their marriage, it remained one of the happiest moments of Conrad's life.

Victoria's throat dried and words failed her, "Conrad, I –"

He waved his hand, dismissive of her apologetic expression. "I can only imagine the kind of changes she's put herself through these past few months." It was unbearable to sleep alone, without her. At least, even during the times they occupied separate bedrooms, her presence remained. The fears crept upon him, in the dark of the night, and Conrad would wake in a cold sweat. If and when she returned to him, would he even recognise her? It petrified Conrad to think that Steph was lost to him forever but, if he were painfully honest with himself, she had been for quite some time. Throughout their turbulent marriage, Stephanie Pruitt, the girl in the bright red raincoat, stood on the library steps in the pouring rain, had slowly faded into nothing. "I've gone through changes, too." He pointed out, matter-of-factly. "These months I've been alone have left me wondering if we were ever really happy with one another. We married so young." He had been twenty-two years old, fresh out of Harvard Business School and full of promise when he announced his engagement. "My father warned me not to." It was one of the few times Conrad rallied against his father's instruction. "He warned me that the day would come when I would meet someone else and wonder, what if..."

The blood rushed to Victoria's head, when Conrad initiated eye contact, his words subliminally directed at her. She steadied herself, returning the photograph to him, "What about children?"

Conrad returned the photograph to its home and regretfully shook his head, "None." It wasn't because they couldn't, to the best of his knowledge, at least. He had never made any attempt to hide the fact that he was, first and foremost, a family man at heart. Once they were married, he and Steph made the conscious decision to allow themselves some child-free years as newly-weds. When their marriage deteriorated, Conrad had hoped the promise of a child would reunite them but Steph had already succumbed to her addiction.

Victoria bowed her head, brushing strands of hair behind her ears. "Conrad, I'm sorry," she broke the silence between them. Her instinct of self-preservation had provoked her to lash out and cause him pain, which had been the very last of her intentions. "I should have come to you, when I learnt the truth."

"As should I," he reiterated her admission, equally as ashamed. Regardless of his fury, he felt his body yearn for Victoria, like he were spellbound by the magnificent creature that she was. Silence consumed the void between them, both at a loss for words, until Conrad felt the need to satisfy the curiosity that he had possessed since her betrayal had been brought to his attention. "Is it serious?" He motioned to the photographs Victoria had wildly discarded in the heat of their argument, now scattered across the floor of the room.

Victoria shook her head, softly mouthing her response. "No." The relief scorched his veins, it had been the assurance Conrad had longed for since her betrayal had been brought to his attention. Without another word, Victoria bridged the gap between their bodies and buried her face into his neck, planting kisses until she reached his lips, and each one healed his invisible wounds.


	4. The Destruction of Steph Grayson

**June 1986 – New York,** **The** **Garden City Hotel**

However Steph envisioned her eventual return home to New York, the reception she received had been one she remained absolutely unprepared for. By her own admission, her nine-month absence had been one of total distance – physically, and emotionally – but she hadn't expected Conrad to be quite so cavalier about her return. Immediately, her worst fears were resurrected and Steph suspected another woman had entered the equation but she redirected her mind away from the kind of paranoia that had destroyed her to begin with. Naturally, Conrad had made a genuine attempt to downplay the tension between them but he remained uncharacteristically aloof. As she studied him from afar, and enviously observed the affection he showered the dark-haired woman beside him with, the true justification for his behaviour became crystal clear.

Devouring her final Vodka-Martini, Steph inhaled the Dutch courage and simulated a boastful confidence that helped her navigate through the tables of diners, until she finally reached her husband. "Well, well, well... what's that old expression?" Her hand reached for the back of Conrad's chair and steadied her questionable balance, as her husband and his female companion reacted to her arrival. "While the cat's away, the mice will play."

"Steph –" His heart swan-dived to his stomach, almost leaping from his seat, in shock.

"Conrad, darling, you're as white as a sheet." Her fraudulent concern unnerved him further. She locked eyes with Victoria, "I don't believe I've had the pleasure?" The incessant stench of alcohol that surrounded Steph provided immature amusement for Victoria, who bowed her head and avoided eye contact. "I'm Stevie Grayson." Conrad frowned, in confusion. For as long as he had known her, she had always been called Steph, or Stephanie by her parents, and he wondered if the change in name was prophetic.

Acutely aware of the public spectacle she threatened to create, Conrad murmured underneath his breath but the anger remained ever present. "What are you doing here, Steph?"

"Well, I wanted to surprise you, sweetheart." She pondered how Conrad had the gall to appear furious given the position she had caught him in. "Your secretary said you had a business dinner here tonight." After Conrad had avoided the conversation they desperately needed, Steph had decided to confront him in an environment where he couldn't escape her. What she discovered instead had shook her to the core. "Some business..." Steph boldly snickered, observing the other woman who appeared far too refined to be even the highest class of call girl. Nevertheless, it was the only insult Steph could muster. "Does my husband pay you by the hour or did the two of you arrange a weekly sum?"

The insinuation provoked a mere smile from Victoria, in cool refusal to lower herself to such a level, but Conrad leapt to his feet, incensed by the accusation. "That's enough," he barked, louder than anticipated. The slur of her words were all too familiar and Conrad flashed her a silent warning not to attract attention in such a refined establishment. No longer threatened by his control, Steph mirrored his challenging expression. "You disappear for months on end, supposedly working on your sobriety, and return to throw around accusations in this state?" Mildly ashamed of herself, Steph bowed her head and restrained the sickness in her stomach that almost freed itself. In one fell swoop, nine months of twelve excruciating steps had been abolished. The sessions of therapy that were supposed to protect her sobriety had failed her. Her temporary relocation to California had been a last-ditch effort to recompose her mind, body and soul, as she brought a new life into the world.

Her lack of response prompted Victoria to gather her purse and rise to her own two feet. "I'm sure the two of you have plenty to discuss, I'll find my own way home."

The reminder of Victoria's presence riled Steph's anger once more and she kicked back into action. "No, please don't leave on my account." She forcefully returned Victoria to her seat. "Victoria, isn't it?" Both Conrad and Victoria mirrored each other's guilty expression and Steph occupied Conrad's chair and reached for his glass of red wine. "My husband may have forgotten me, while I was in California, but my friends certainly didn't, and one or two of them were very eager to update my list of who's-who in New York." She devoured the drink, with a cool smirk. "That reminds me, Conrad; Susan Archibald was very upset you didn't make it to her husband's retirement banquet." She poured herself a generous glassful, from the bottle on the table. "In fact, you've been suspiciously absent from the social scene these past few months yourself. The average person might assume it's because you're a man who's missing his wife but I knew there was more to it than that," Steph pointed out, motioning the glass toward Victoria. She wondered if she had been as paranoid as Conrad had led her to believe or whether her absence had finally driven him to the affair. Either way, it didn't matter much.

"Steph –"

"Well, who could possibly blame you?" She wondered aloud, quite honestly. She, herself, had indulged in the danger of an extra-marital affair and, as such, had little right to condemn him. Though, Conrad seemed to appear clueless still. "She is quite beautiful," Steph admitted, though her compliment felt more like a taunt. Throughout her marriage to Conrad, her insecurities had been those of his love for her, or lack of it. Suddenly, Steph found herself increasingly self-conscious, as she pitted herself against Victoria. They were bookends in appearance and, in every which way, the other woman was perfect. Her ebony locks elongated her slender frame and Steph became progressively more aware of her own figure, that had yet to recover from childbirth. Her hips were noticeably wider, her breasts somewhat heavier from the endless supply of milk and her feet remained swollen, hidden inside wedged boots that tugged at her feet.

Conrad wore an apologetic expression, entirely exasperated by the situation he had no control of. Rarely did he find himself extracted from his comfort zone – he dominated every room, business or otherwise – but her abrupt arrival had knocked his confidence and it showed. "Steph, please?"

"After everything I've done for you... everything I've given up for you," his wife muttered, underneath her breath. It had been an incomprehensible choice between her husband and her child but, after much consideration, she had resolved to collect the shattered pieces of her marriage and make amends with Conrad. When all was said and done, she still loved him. The months of isolation had allowed her to make an informed decision, one she was comfortable with. Their affair had been brief but Steph believed Carl Porter would make an adequate parent. At the very least, he would adjust far better than she could have to motherhood. Her emotional stability remained shaky, at best, and her current condition supported that.

Her words inaudible to him, Conrad frowned and reached for her arm, "Let me take you home?"

"Don't touch me." Viciously, she retracted from his touch and silently damned him to hell. Perhaps, it had been foolish to expect him to wait for her but she had hoped and prayed he would. In her desperate scramble to save herself, he remained at the forefront of her mind. Other women may have manipulated the pregnancy to their advantage and coerced him into fathering another man's child but Steph didn't have the heart to do such a thing.

"Is everything alright, Mr Grayson?" A waiter cautiously approached the trio, and they each became aware of the surrounding diners and staff, who had locked their attention to the dramatic scene before them. At the bar, Steph spied the bartender who had served her earlier, undoubtedly, questioning how shrewd his decision had been.

"Yes, thank you. I believe this should take care of the check." Reaching into his jacket pocket, Conrad presented the young man with seven hundred dollar bills and Victoria followed his lead, rising from her chair once again. "I suggest we find somewhere more private to have this conversation," he leaned to Steph's level, guiding her steadily from her seat and wandering through the restaurant. His wife clung to the glass of wine she had rescued and Conrad politely acknowledged a business acquaintance, who dined at a nearby table.

Once in the foyer of the hotel, Steph unleashed herself from Conrad and stumbled behind Victoria's wake. "So, Victoria, exactly how long have you been my husband's whore?" Rebuffing the insult, Victoria shook her head at Conrad. "Did you know he was married? Silly question, of course you did. Though, I suppose being known as a gold-digging little homewrecker doesn't matter to a woman like you."

Victoria stopped dead in her tracks, turning on her heels to face what was supposedly her competition. "I haven't demanded, nor accepted, a single penny from Conrad. As far as being a homewrecker, it remains to be seen whether there was even a home to ruin. You have been long gone for months, Stevie. Did you really expect your husband to wait on the sidelines like a little lost lamb?" The answer was evident in her eyes and Victoria flashed the inebriated blonde a pitiful look, as Conrad stepped beside her.

Husband and wife eyed one another; it was a turning point in their marriage and not for the better. "Go home, Steph." Conrad advised, concerned for her welfare but also exhausted by her constant need for his concern. "I'll meet you there later." He instructed, as he curled an arm around Victoria's waist and hailed a nearby taxi. The couple climbed into the backseat and Steph remained on the steps of the hotel, almost tempted to blurt out the truth behind her stay in California but what little maternal instinct she had clamped her lips shut. Even if she were to reveal her son, her baby would have been a threat to the Grayson name – tolerated, if he were lucky, but resented for the humiliation he caused. Fighting the tears, Steph resolved to accept the fate she had chosen, the day she discovered she had fallen pregnant... no matter what the cost.

* * *

"You didn't need to drive me home, you know?" Victoria unlocked the door to her apartment. Truthfully, the fact that Conrad had decided to leave with her, rather than Steph, unlocked a great sense of achievement for her. He answered her with a deep kiss, brushing her body against the doorway but Victoria's lack of enthusiasm slowly dawned upon him. "Conrad –" Reluctantly, he backed off, as her hand pressed against his chest. Confused, he searched what little view of the apartment he had and Victoria motioned him to cross the threshold, aware of his ulterior motive. "You're welcome to check under the bed," she teased.

Conrad's hands delved into each pocket, his cheeks reddening slightly as Victoria called him out. Since their lovers spat, Victoria had ended whatever romantic involvement she and Dominik participated in but, in light of the uncertainty their relationship held, Conrad remained wary of her fidelity to him. "I'm sorry for tonight," he muttered and Victoria exhaled heavily, her head resting on the doorway to her apartment. "I knew Steph was back from California, I just didn't expect her to..." his voice trailed off.

"You should go home," Victoria softly ordered his departure.

"Yeah," Conrad muttered, in reluctant agreement. Every fibre of his being begged him to remain with Victoria, an easy distraction from the battlefield he would encounter with Steph, but it wasn't fair to prolong the inevitable. "I'll call you," he promised, kissing her cheek.

The door open, she watched him round the corner and jumped with fright, as another pair of arms wrapped around her waist and Dominik appeared from behind. "He's like a lovesick pup," he chuckled.

She rolled her eyes, wriggling free from his embrace. "I warned you not to be here tonight," she lightly scolded him. The only thing that threatened her relationship with Conrad, the future just inches from her reach, was her relationship with Dominik but she simply didn't have to heart to cut him loose. It would break his heart – and hers – and Victoria wasn't prepared to do such a thing, until she was certain of Conrad's intention. "His wife showed up tonight," Victoria confided in him, as she removed her coat.

"How long do you think you can keep this thing going, Vic?" Dominik sighed, worried for them both.

"For as long as I have to," she matter-of-factly answered. Her affair with Conrad had spanned only a few weeks but Victoria was certain he had fallen in love with her – his defence of her against Steph's attack had been proof. Perhaps, the ordinary 'other woman' would have been satisfied with that but Victoria craved more from him. She wasn't the kind of woman to waste away years of her life, dancing to Whitney Houston's classic tune of _Saving All My Love For You_. "I meant what I said, Dominik," Victoria reminded him. "I want Conrad Grayson."


	5. Marriage Proposal

**June 1986 – New York, The Grayson Pied-à-Terre**

"I hope that scene Steph made at dinner the other evening didn't make you uncomfortable to be seen in public with me?" As Conrad poured himself and Victoria an equal dose of after-dinner liquor, he referenced her request that he cancel the dinner reservation he had pre-planned for that evening. Victoria feigned an uneasy smile and Conrad joined her on the couch. He loosened his shirt at the collar and stretched the other arm behind her as he scooted closer to Victoria, "Not that I don't enjoy having you all to myself."

Without so much as allowing one sip of the amber liquid beyond her lips, Victoria discarded the drink. The Dutch courage would have been appreciated but she couldn't risk arousing suspicion. "Conrad, I'm pregnant."

The smile from his previous quip faded, the ground started to crumble beneath him and Conrad inhaled the air as if it were his last breath, his heart plummeting to the depths. How many times he had prayed for this moment, how many times he had imagined it... "Well, I –" It was the moment Conrad had dreamed of, the realisation that he was to become a father and continue the legacy his father had created. Except, it was an entirely different picture than the one he had programmed himself to envision. It wasn't his wife sat before him, it was his mistress. It was an ugly word but it was also fact; Victoria was his mistress, and the mother of his unborn child. Instead of the radiance an expectant mother possessed, her skin had paled to an unhealthy shade, that had little to do with morning sickness. It was quite the predicament.

His reaction had been one she feared, if not entirely expected. "You're disappointed?"

"I didn't say that," he murmured, quick to correct her misjudgement. How bluntly she had spurted out the sudden revelation suggested she was as troubled by her condition as she looked. An apologetic expression graced her delicate features and Conrad feared she would dissolve into tears. "Hey," his hand reached forward and cupped her face, forcing her to raise the head she had lowered. The small offer of kindness caused her emotional walls of protection to disintegrate and Victoria collapsed hopelessly into his arms, the tears rapidly streaming down her cheeks and dampening his shirt at the shoulder.

"I'm sorry." Her words so faint, barely audible between the wracking sobs that ached in her chest.

Conrad held her until her emotional outburst subsided, his hand soothingly scaled her back. "You have nothing to apologise for." Her cries reached an inevitable end and Conrad brushed away the sticky residue of her tears with the pad of his thumb. He waited until her irregular breathing had settled to its normal pace and Victoria sniffed away the threat of further hysterics. "Have you seen a doctor?" At such an early point, her health was imperative. Softly, Victoria nodded her head and Conrad gathered her hands into his own. For arguments sake, he wouldn't voice his objection just yet but Conrad made a mental note to have Victoria checked-over by an obstetrician that would come highly-recommended. The fact that Victoria didn't draw into a further response already answered his question but his protective instinct provoked him to check his presumption, "Is the baby alright?" Once again, she nodded her head in confirmation. "Well... how do you feel?" Regardless of how much Conrad had relished the prospect of fatherhood, the fate of his unborn child rested solely in Victoria's hands and he resolved, in that very moment, to accept whatever decision she reached. "About the baby, I mean..." She shook her head, illustrating her evident confusion on the matter and Conrad heavily exhaled. "Victoria, whatever decision you come to, whether you care to bring this child into the world or not, I will support you."

"Do you really mean that?" She could barely disguise her astonishment at his pledge of support, or the attempt of indifference Conrad made to her decision. A man like Conrad had been raised with family values, taught that family mattered most, above all. She had expected him to practically trip over himself, in order to secure his child.

"Victoria, I have dreamed of becoming a father long before the day we met." There had been a time when he had convinced himself that a child would be the glue that held his marriage together. That, the mere promise of a child would wash all of their cares down the kitchen sink, along with the contents of the bottles that Steph had hidden from his sight. "And I would move heaven and earth to have that opportunity but not at the cost of you." He may have been yet to declare the words but Conrad loved her far too much to berate her into motherhood. "If you should decide –" he swallowed the lump in his throat, his words clear and assured. "To terminate the pregnancy, then I will stand by you."

It was a far cry from the terror Jimmy had inflicted upon Victoria, in the months after Patrick's birth. The respect Conrad exhibited for her tugged at Victoria's heartstrings and any doubt she had in her mind was eradicated; he was the kind of man she could spend the rest of her life with, irrespective of whether she had truly fallen in love with him or not. "And, if I should decide to keep the baby?"

The uncertainty in her voice implied that she remained indecisive and Conrad steadied himself, ensuring that he sounded confident in his answer. "Then you and I would raise that child together."

She angled her head to one side and let out a tempestuous scoff, "What about your wife?"

"My marriage has been over for some time." He had been fooling himself, to think that a fresh start lay ahead of them when Steph returned from California. The public confrontation between them had been proof of that. "Nine months of supposed sobriety and she falls off the wagon as soon as she steps foot in New York." He reconciled that it was in her best interest, as well as that of his unborn child and Victoria, to dissolve the marriage. Whatever loyalty Conrad had to Steph was trumped, a hundred times over, by that of his loyalty to his child and Conrad was hell-bent that he would not fail his heir the way he had done her. "I'll contact my lawyer first thing tomorrow morning and have him start proceedings for divorce." The plain-spoken tone of his voice, as if the decision were an inevitable one visibly startled Victoria and Conrad furrowed his brow into a concerned frown. "That is what you want, isn't it?" He hadn't envisioned 'popping the question' to Victoria but had he done so, he hoped it would have been somewhat more romantic than those seven words offered forward.

"No," she spluttered. In actual fact, it was what she was banking on. "Conrad, the last thing I would ask of you is to move from one unhappy relationship to one you're just as uncertain of. That would be as reckless as jumping from the frying pan into the fire." Her words scolded his impulsive suggestion.

"Victoria, if there is one thing I am certain of," Conrad chuckled, "It's the way I feel about you." The sincerity in his voice stirred an emotion within Victoria. It was the first time in her life that she felt she truly belonged, somewhere she sensed she would be protected. "You are the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. I'm not saying that because you're pregnant, Victoria, I'm saying it because I love you." It was the first time those three words, eight letters to be exact, had been whispered into her ear.

The tears re-emerged but were evidence of a far more joyous emotion, "I love you, too."

To hear her echo his admission ripped the air from his lungs and Conrad grinned, "In that case..." he lowered himself inches to the floor and steadied his balance on one knee. "Victoria Harper, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?" There was no ostentatious engagement ring, at least, not yet.

It was the culmination of her devious plot, the moment Victoria had conspired for. Prior to her announcement, Victoria had questioned whether she had inherited her mother's ability to manipulate the opposite sex. She had doubted herself, her motives but the surge of ecstasy made her deception worthwhile. "Conrad?" She feigned uncertainty in his proposal, a second of hesitation for show but Victoria basked in the moment.

"Let me make you the happiest woman in the world," Conrad whispered, a gleam in his eyes. "Marry me?"

Her lips twisted into a shy smile, as she whispered, "Yes."

* * *

As Victoria prepared to depart the apartment she had co-habited with Dominik, the door swung open and the sight of Dominik produced an ache in her heart. There were no words to explain. Besides, the suitcase in her hand just about said it all. He sighed heavily, as if he had anticipated the moment. "So, it's over?"

"I'm sorry, Dominik." Of all the men Victoria had known throughout her life – Maxwell, Jimmy, Pascal, and even Conrad – Dominik was the best of them all. He had the purest heart she had ever known, in spite of the darkness that shrouded it. That had been what had connected them, their blackened souls made them kindred spirits but, while Dominik channelled his demons and allowed them to inspire him and his art, her demons had almost killed her. It ripped her inside-out, the insecurities lurked and preyed upon her until she damn-near lost the will to fight. His childhood had been equally as brutal as her own but, unlike Victoria, Dominik succumbed to the dark path that he seemed to believe himself destined for. In her desperate attempts to rescue him from such cruel fate, she could feel his weight drowning her but Conrad was her lifeline. "He's asked me to marry him." She didn't need an additional sentence to inform Dominik as to what her response had been.

"You don't love him, Vic." He may have lacked the education and the financial wealth of Conrad Grayson but Dominik wasn't so simple-minded that he couldn't read her heart.

As she studied Dominik's tormented expression, his silent plea for her to remain with him, the moment resembled that of a crossroad in her life and Victoria knew that it would forever remain her biggest "what-if". "You're right," she admitted. "I don't." Whatever love she had for Conrad, Victoria understood she had not fallen in love with him and had yet to feel the way a bride-to-be should about her future husband. "But I will," she persisted, more of an attempt to convince herself, than him. She reached for the envelope inside her purse that had been loaded with a wad of hundred-dollar bills Conrad had supplied her with and carefully placed it on the dining table for Dominik to collect. Given her abandonment, it was the least she could do for him. "Take care of yourself, my darling." As she wandered past, Victoria leaned into him and pressed her lips against his unshaven cheek, one hand smoothing over his stubble.

His memory recalled the bittersweet moment Dominik had declared his love for Victoria. How disappointed he had been by her failure to reiterate the sentiment, how heart-stricken he had been to learn that she didn't think she could love another living soul. He had refused to believe it, endeavoured to convince her otherwise but, as Victoria disappeared from sight, Dominik started to wonder if perhaps she had been right.


	6. Mr & Mrs Grayson

**July 1986 – New York, The Plaza Hotel**

One of New York's finest, the Plaza Hotel, burst with excitement, as the much-anticipated wedding of Conrad Grayson and Victoria Harper commenced. High-society patrons and their wives were in full attendance, anyone who was anyone in the big apple had received an invitation. At the insistence of Edward, no expense had been spared; the chatter of over five hundred guests echoed within the Terrace Room, as they patiently awaited the ceremonial nuptials to begin. Above them, original crystal chandeliers shone with a golden elegance and figural paintings created in the spirit of Italian renaissance adorned the ceiling. It was a grand affair, undoubtedly.

Nervously, Conrad played with the cufflink on his right wrist. The square chunks of silver with his initials engraved had been a surprise wedding gift from Victoria. At the foot of the altar, he overlooked the entire ceremony. In deep conversation with various relatives, who had flown from across the world to be present, his mother dazzled in a Carolina blue and white ensemble and Conrad spied the matching clutch, which more than likely contained a handful of tissues. She had cried tears of joy at his first wedding, she would do the same again. To his left, one of the few college friends Conrad had remained in touch with, William van der Woodsen, stood with his hands behind his back. At his wedding to Steph, it had been his father who had received the honour of best man, and Edward had done a fine job of soothing any last-minute jitters. This time, however, Edward had insisted that he be the one to walk Victoria down the aisle, in an effort to quell any spiteful rumours that the Grayson patriarch didn't approve of Conrad's decision to remarry, especially to a woman with little stature in their circles and quite so suddenly after his hasty divorce from Steph.

Finally, the romantic notes of Pachelbel's _Canon in D_ hummed in the air and the guests immediately rose from their feet, as Edward and Victoria appeared through the golden-embroidered doors. At the opposite end of the aisle, Conrad could barely contain his smile as the congregation gushed, in reverence of his intended. Slowly, but surely, Edward escorted Victoria down the white aisle carpet, centred between the rows of guests. It had consumed every ounce of self-control Conrad could muster not to spin on his heels and embrace the vision that was Victoria, until, after a seemingly-endless forty-five seconds, his father's hands stretched forward and cupped Conrad's inside his own, with a proud grin. The smile Conrad reflected to his father vanished and a wondrous expression decorated his features, the second Victoria entered his line of vision. Her jet black mane had been pinned above her shoulders, steadied by the small pearl and diamante headpiece borrowed from Elizabeth, who had worn the accessory at her own wedding to Edward. The sheath silhouette of the ivory white dress complimented her slim physique, a corset bodice underneath accentuated exotic curves and an off-shoulder, portrait neckline revealed her prominent collarbone. As Edward silently joined Elizabeth, careful not to damage to cathedral train that draped nearly seven feet from Victoria's waist, Conrad and Victoria shared exuberant smiles.

The officiant signalled for the guests to return to their seated positions and his voice commanded the room, "Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends, we are gathered here today to witness and celebrate the union of Conrad Grayson and Victoria Harper in holy matrimony." The holy Bible safely protected in his hands, he continued, "Love is patient, love is kind, and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant, does not act unbecomingly; it does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things." A moment of silence allowed those present to comprehend the weight of the meaning behind the words spoken, before he motioned for the groom to address the congregation, "Conrad?"

Still overwhelmed by Victoria's radiance, Conrad cleared his throat and internally damned his speechlessness, as he prepared to recite an excerpt from _The Prophet_ by Khalil Gibran. "Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself but, if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires; to melt and be like a running book that sings its melody to the night; to know the pain of too much tenderness; to be wounded by your own understanding of love; and to bleed willingly and joyfully." The depths of his ocean blue eyes were explored in their entirety, as he spoke every word to Victoria, as if there were no one else present in the room. "To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving; to rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy; to return home at evening with gratitude; and then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise on your lips."

"Victoria?" The officiant nodded his head in her direction, to signal her to recite her own piece.

"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways," the softness of her voice resonated within the room, thrilling each and every nerve in Conrad's body. "I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach when feeling out of sight, for the ends of being and ideal grace, I love thee to the level of every day's. Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight, I love thee freely, as men strive for right; I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with the passion put to use, in my old grief's and with my childhood's faith." In that moment, Victoria became suddenly aware of Conrad's hands joint to hers and the irrefutable longing in his eyes, and flashed him a mischievous smile. "I love thee with a love I seemed to lose, with my lost saints, I love thee with the breath, smiles, tears of all my life and, if God choose, I shall but love the better after death."

The officiant continued with the vows selected, "Do you Conrad Montgomery Grayson take Victoria Lynn Harper to be your lawfully wedded wife; to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish until death do you part?"

"I do," Conrad grinned.

The officiant angled his body toward Victoria, "Do you Victoria Lynn Harper take Conrad Montgomery Grayson to be your lawfully wedded husband; to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish until death do you part?"

Without hesitancy, Victoria smiled, "I do."

As the officiant gestured for his interaction, William stepped forward to deliver the rings and Conrad plucked the eighteen karat diamond ring from the cushion. Lifting Victoria's left hand higher, he slid the perfectly fitted ring onto her finger, "I give you this ring as an eternal symbol of my love, as I give to you all that I am and accept from you all that you are." Once the ring reached the base of her finger, Conrad softly caressed her hand with his lips and Victoria fought the urge to break into a fit of giggles.

Reaching for the golden wedding band, Victoria steadied his hand in hers, "I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness. May it remind you always that you are surrounded by my enduring love."

"Now, by the power vested in me by the State of New York, I hereby pronounce you husband and wife." The very moment Conrad had longed for arrived, as the officiant clasped his hands together, "You may kiss the bride." A hearty applause broke out within the room, in celebration of the union, as Conrad tenderly embraced Victoria.

* * *

As the ceremony concluded, the guests were ushered into the Grand Ballroom of the Plaza, where Edward had selected himself to introduce the newlywed couple. "Ladies and gentlemen, it is my honour to present to you, for the first time, Conrad and Victoria Grayson."

The soulful tune of _Come Rain or Come Shine_ by Ray Charles began to play, as Conrad and Victoria swept into the ballroom for the first dance as husband and wife. With his hand on the small of her back, Conrad inched his wife's body intimately closer to his, as they waltzed across the dancefloor. "I didn't think you could look any more beautiful than you did the day we met," he confessed. Whether it was the glow of upcoming motherhood or the radiance of a newlywed, Victoria's bewitching beauty transfixed Conrad into an awe he couldn't break free of. "I am the luckiest man in the whole world, today and forever." The movement of their bodies match the slow rhythm of the music yet time seemed to stand still, the hundreds of guests surrounding them slowly faded into obscurity. His love for Victoria overwhelmed his heart, his passion stimulated him; his only regret was that it hadn't been Victoria, who had been the vivacious, young girl he had met on the library steps.

The devotion in his eyes melted any iciness once instilled into her heart. In her twenty-nine years on earth, no one had shown her the kind of loyalty, passion, respect or tenderness that Conrad had in the few short months they had known one another. She felt a pang of guilt, for the lies she had force-fed him. They were white lies; pure at heart, for she had no venomous desire to cause Conrad pain. In fact, he _would_ become a father. They _would_ share in that joy together… one day. Their time would soon come. Her eyes clouded over with tears and she clung to him, "I love you so much." And she meant it. The depth of her feelings may have been questionable when she accepted Conrad's marriage proposal but her vows were irrefutably earnest.

Echoing her declaration of love, Conrad softly kissed her lips, "And I love you, Mrs Grayson." The name soothed the tormented soul she had carried since childhood, the wounds seemed to miraculously heal; in that moment, Victoria Harper unwittingly faded into another existence and Victoria Grayson had most definitely arrived.


	7. Mothers

**August 1986 –** **Greenwich, The Grayson** **Estate**

"Hello, Victoria."

When Conrad had hinted – in fact, outright spoke of – a surprise, in all her wildest dreams, Victoria would never have guessed that her husband would have gone to such an extreme length. She bit her tongue and allowed the greeting she had promised herself would never pass her lips again to address the woman before her, "Mother?"

Aware of the long-lasting rift between mother and daughter, Conrad remained cautious of Victoria's reaction. She appeared highly disconcerted and somewhat displeased but Conrad had anticipated as much. Before he could explain himself, Marion reached forward and cupped Victoria's hands into her own, "When Conrad called with news of the miscarriage, I just knew I had to be with you. I'm so sorry, I couldn't have been here sooner." Marion dramatically threw her arms around her daughter and Victoria precariously rested her chin on the curve of her mother's shoulder and feigned a small smile of comfort, for the sake of Conrad, who remained a silent witness to the seemingly-bittersweet family reunion.

After a blissful honeymoon on the southern coast of Italy, the dream of two becoming three had been shattered. An urgent call from Victoria had interrupted a business meeting of paramount importance but the word 'cramping' had been enough to send Conrad scrambling from the office in a blind panic. The sight he returned home to had been the most disheartening in all his years; his wife hunched over on the bathroom floor, pools of blood staining the white tiles and an apologetic expression delicately gracing her features. A house call from the Grayson family's private physician had sympathetically confirmed Victoria was without child but, in an attempt to lift their downcast spirits, ensured Victoria had shown no sign of an inability to carry a child to full term. In the wake of their loss, Conrad and Victoria had isolated themselves within the home that felt far too big for just the two of them. For the two weeks since, Conrad had done whatever within his power to make an unbearable loss bearable but, in contrast to his efforts, Victoria failed to shed a single tear for the child lost. The doctor had assured him that her lack of emotion was merely a thin veil of denial; her mind so overwhelmed by the loss that it failed to truly comprehend. It was a stark role reversal, to the manner in which Conrad had been raised, but Victoria had been the one to console his tears. Still, he feared for Victoria's state of mind and his mother's unconsciously-worded advice had spurred his rather impulsive decision to reach out to Marion. "It's times like this that we need to rely on family," Conrad reiterated Elizabeth's words and softly grazed his lips upon Victoria's cheek. "I thought your mother might keep you company for the day while I'm at the office." He craved the routine of every-day normality to steady him through their loss, despite his father's firm offer to 'hold the fort' at Grayson Global.

"She'll be in safe hands," Marion grinned at her son-in-law, her hands still clutched around Victoria's.

Conrad flashed the older woman a smile of reassurance. Whatever the history between the two women, Conrad prayed that the passing of time and the loss of his unborn child would unite them and heal old wounds. "I'll see you later, sweetheart. Call me if you need me?" She nodded her head, in agreement and Conrad quietly departed upon his hour-long commute to the company headquarters.

The second the door closed completely shut, Victoria snatched her hand from her mother's touch. Even the mere touch of her skin against hers reviled her. That phoney smile and eyes glittering from tears conjured up to present the kind of maternal warmth that had been foreign to Marion for the entirety of Victoria's childhood. "It's quite the life you've carved out for yourself," her mother complimented, in a pitiful attempt to hide her bitterness. The Grayson Estate, buried in the heart of Greenwich, one of the richest areas in the state, was representative of the opulent lifestyle Marion had so desperately craved. "My Victoria, Mrs Conrad Grayson." The name alone seemed to hold such power and Marion was disgruntled to have not been personally informed of the marriage. "I hear the wedding was quite the grand affair. My invitation must have been lost in the mail." Naturally, Victoria had decided not to invite her and Marion scowled at Victoria, to let her know she was aware of just that. To attend a high-society wedding of that stature would have brought her unprecedented happiness and, as far as Marion was concerned, Victoria had done whatever in her power to strip away any of life's pleasures Marion enjoyed; she had done since the day she had birthed her into the world.

In preparation of the blowback, one her mother never failed to deliver, Victoria wrapped the off-white knitted cardigan further around her waist, hugging her abdomen. "What is it you want, mother?"

"Though, from what I understand, it did all happen rather quickly, didn't it?" Marion pointed out, dismissing her daughter's question and pursuing her own trail of thought. "I mean, I don't see or hear from you in thirteen years until, one day, I open the society pages to discover that you're married after just a five-week engagement." The build-up of her mother's words unnerved Victoria; it was almost as if her mother _knew_. "Then, out of the blue, I receive a phone call from the illustrious Conrad Grayson to inform me that, not only did my daughter marry him, but she miscarried his child." She flashed Victoria a vicious smile and Victoria's heart sank. "And that's when it clicked; the oldest trick in the book. God knows why men fall for it every time but they do," she remarked, her tone of voice far more off-hand than the subject discussed.

In an attempt to feign her innocence, Victoria forced the words, "Fall for what, exactly?"

"Oh, sweetheart," The nickname sounded far more venomous from her lips than Conrad's and Marion laughed at Victoria's expression of confusion. "Conrad may have fallen for your act but I know you better than that. You're no emptier than you were the day you married that fool."

Victoria understood that denying her mother's accusation would be an exercise in futility and, immediately, the façade she had conducted for Conrad vanished. Her expression hardened, "Conrad is no fool."

"All men are fools, Victoria. Surely, you know that much by now." The allusion behind her words and the gleam in Marion's eyes repulsed Victoria; whether it be denial or plain stupidity, in her mother's eyes, Victoria was the teenage seductress who lured the opposite sex with the bewitching appeal of youth. She could still recall the off-hand response Marion delivered when Victoria first struck the courage to confide the abuse suffered at the hands of her mother's lover. How Marion had criticised the floral dress that stopped just above the knee and the strokes of mascara that had graced her lashes. Had it not been for the fear in her heart, the panic that suffocated her lungs, Victoria would have allowed her mother to convince herself that she had asked for it, enjoyed it even. The older she became, the more she understood how warped her childhood had been but, even then, she had been powerless to prevent it. "Weak fools so easily defied, just the mention of a child and they'll drop to their knees."

Victoria raised her head above her shoulders, "If they're so easily defied, how is it you didn't marry my father?"

Her words were so softly spoken that Marion almost didn't detect the venom. "Why, you malicious –" she stopped herself, short. Whatever life Victoria had endured in the thirteen years they had been separated had certainly bolstered her self-reliance. There had been a time when her daughter would have never dared to defy her with such disrespect. "I wanted to marry your father. Of course, once I fell pregnant with you, he ran in the opposite direction." The comment purposely dismantled Victoria's upper-hand in the confrontation and Marion revelled in the knowledge that she could still make her daughter squirm.

"Why are you here?" Victoria demanded, "Because Conrad called? If you're under the impression that I asked for you, you're sorely mistaken. My husband contacted you by his own volition. I certainly don't need a watchdog," she snickered. "Or are you here to impress Conrad?" It wouldn't surprise Victoria to learn that her mother had bowed to Conrad's request, in the hopes that the Grayson heir was her next potential meal ticket.

"I'm here, Victoria, because your husband appreciates the importance of family, though I suspect he's the only one in this household that does. Loyalty never was your strong point," Marion scolded and Victoria almost lost the air in her lungs to hear her mother speak as if the betrayal had been hers. "Whether you like it or not, you and I are blood. If and when you do conceive a child of your own, maybe you'll finally understand what it takes to be a mother and I hope you come to know how it feels to have your own child turn their back on you."

"If and when I do have a child of my own, I'll be the kind of mother you could only hope to be." Victoria lashed back, more defiant than ever in the face of her mother's cruelty.

"Well, we'll see about that," Marion sneered.

"No, mother, _we_ won't. You sacrificed any right to be in your grandchildren's lives the day you kicked me to the curb." The sense of abandonment Marion had inflicted upon Victoria had stuck with her and the fear of rejection remained ever-present. She would never forgive her mother for such a betrayal, she couldn't, even if wanted to. "I wouldn't wish the hell you bring on my worst enemy, let alone my own child." Her mother snapped her head in her direction and Victoria basked in the ultimate blow to her mother's soul, or what was left of it. She softened her words but the blow remained heavy, "Grandma Harper will just be another distant relative with a face unknown." It gave Victoria great satisfaction to have the same power Marion had once had when she forced Victoria to become an outcast herself. "Oh, we'll send you school portraits. You'll send birthday cards and presents at Christmas but you'll never be able to make it to Thanksgiving dinner. Marion Harper will live out the rest of her days lonely and miserable." Lacking any real protection from Victoria's scathing attack, Marion held her head high and summoned what little dignity Victoria left her with. "You and I may be blood, mother, but we're not family." Victoria savagely corrected her mother's previous statement. "And I'll die before I allow someone as poisonous as you anywhere near my children."

* * *

The rev of his Porsche announced Conrad's return home and Victoria muted the volume of the television.

Whereas Conrad would usually call out, Victoria waited in silence until a bunch of white roses were lowered in front of her face and Conrad leaned in from behind to peck her cheek. "Honey, I'm home." Admiring the flowers, Victoria inhaled the aroma with a smile that faded at her husband's question, "Where's your mother?"

"She had to make the trip home. She couldn't stay long, some doctor's appointment or something…" Victoria improvised a poor excuse on her mother's behalf. Her mother had been crippled by her verbal beating and Victoria felt heroic in the victory she had longed to win.

"I'm sorry for springing her on you," Conrad grimaced apologetically, for fear of his wife's condemnation.

"No, don't be silly," Victoria waved away his fright. She forced a smile upon her lips. "It was good to see her." In actual fact, Victoria had _needed_ to see Marion. While Conrad had assumed her restless insomnia had been a manifestation of grief, a much darker emotion lingered in the back of her mind. For years, Victoria had been witness to her mother's manipulation of an endless list of men and Victoria had to wonder whether her own deception of Conrad made her all that different from the mother she despised. "We needed to clear the air," she confessed, with some truth to the statement. "And she helped me to realise something very important."

Conrad stripped off his jacket, carelessly disposing of it at the back of the couch, "Oh, and what is that?"

"That I'm ready to be a mother." Victoria admitted, her heavy heart just a little bit lighter than before. "That this miscarriage wasn't some kind of sign…" she shook her head, as if aware of how absurd the logic behind it was.

Assuming that her fear had been the reason for her emotional distance, Conrad nestled onto the couch beside his wife and caressed her cheek with the palm of his hand, "Of course it wasn't. Victoria, this baby just wasn't meant to be, that's all. It doesn't mean you're not meant to have children." The pad of his thumb stroked the line of her cheekbone and Victoria leaned her face further into his touch, "We'll have children, a houseful of them and you will make a wonderful mother."


	8. Lady of the Manor

**December 1986 – Colorado, The Grayson Chalet**

One hand ruffled through dreaded bed-hair as Conrad searched for his wife. He had woken to find an empty space in the bed beside him but the warmth leftover from her body suggested she hadn't been absent for long. A crisp winter breeze of air blew in through the half-open patio doors and Conrad wandered to the coffee machine to prepare his regular morning drink, which sustained him for the inconceivable hours of daylight. While the water boiled, Conrad strolled out onto the patio where his wife overlooked the scenic landscape. "Good morning, my dear. Are you feeling any better?" Wrapped in a blanket, protection from the early morning chill, Victoria looked somewhat healthier than she had been in the previous couple of days. Still, the very tip of her nose remained a blotchy kind of red and Conrad leaned forward to kiss the bridge of it.

"Much." Victoria positively replied, as she indulged in her morning cup of raspberry-flavoured green tea. "Did you sleep well?" She asked, repositioning her body and resting her head on Conrad's chest.

"Like a baby," Conrad declared.

The couple melted into one another, merging their body heat, as they indulged in the peacefulness of the early hour. Morning light had just started to overwhelm the darkness of the night sky and a gentle spray of low fog clouded the peak of the mountains in the distance. "It's so beautiful," Victoria murmured.

It was an honoured Grayson family tradition to celebrate the holiday season in Aspen. Since his early childhood, Conrad had travelled with his parents to Colorado and basked in the kind of peace and serenity unknown to his hometown of New York. To share in the tradition with Victoria, for their first Christmas as husband and wife, had been surreal. "We only have a few more hours before the flight back to New York," he regretfully pointed out.

So immersed in the week they had spent away from reality, Victoria had little interest in returning home and peered up at her husband. "Would you mind terribly, if we skipped the New Year's Eve party and stayed here a little longer?" Her first Christmas as Mrs Conrad Grayson had been the magical kind of experience Victoria had only dared to dream of as a young girl. A tree ten-feet tall stood beside the fireplace and a mountain of presents were neatly stacked underneath it. A thick blanket of snow effortlessly painted the entire landscape white and the golden Christmas lights created a winter wonderland effect. It had been a week of austerity, laughter and togetherness – a polar opposite of the miserable holidays Victoria had shared with her mother – and Victoria prayed it would never end. "We could see in the New Year here just the two of us?"

The New Year's Eve celebration his mother annually organised had been another tradition Conrad happily anticipated sharing with his wife but, as always, he found it impossible to deny Victoria. He nodded his head, "Of course. I'm sure mom will understand. I have a meeting with some investors but I can cancel. Besides, what good is being your own boss if you don't take advantage of it?" He heartily chuckled, scaling his hand up and down Victoria's arm to create an extra source of warmth. "We can stay here as long as you like. I do have a surprise waiting for you at home, though."

The mention of a surprise intrigued Victoria and she sat upright, her voice girlish, "What is it?"

"Ah, I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to tell." He teasingly dodged her question and Victoria pressed her lips together in a disappointed pout, like that of a child ready to burst into tantrum.

"C'mon?" She pleaded, playfully smacking his upper-arm. "What's my surprise?" He had treated her like a queen; her favourite gift a diamante bracelet, its form so delicate that Victoria hadn't officially worn it, for fear she would break its fragile chain. Victoria's mind raced in wonder of what more Conrad could have in store for her.

"Well..." Conrad paused. "You'll have to see for yourself." He raised his hand in the air and motioned for Victoria to patiently wait, before he untangled himself from the blanket and disappeared inside the chalet. In a flash, he returned with a folder retrieved from his briefcase and offered it to Victoria. "Open it," he instructed. Carefully, Victoria discarded her near-empty cup of tea on the nearby table and opened the folder to discover a sketch of a large building entitled Grayson Manor. "I had an artist draw up an architectural sketch for a plot of land I own in Southampton. It's about 24 thousand square feet, it has its own private beach –" He stopped short, mistaking her utter amazement for a negative emotion, one he assumed to be disappointment. In an attempt to backtrack, he bowed his head and shrugged his shoulders, "It's just a rough sketch. If you don't like it –"

"No, I –" Victoria stammered, overwhelmed purely by the dimensions jotted on the pages. The proposal of the building exceeded even the size of their estate in Greenwich. "I do," she assured.

Conrad released a breath of relief and grinned, "I know how much you love the area." The beauty of the Hampton's community was that it maintained the splendour of New York but moved at a slower pace. "I thought you and I might spend the summer there?" Her eyes brightened at the prospect, "It's far enough from the city to give us a break but I'm only a couple hours away from the office if there's a crisis." In fact, it had become quite the trend for many of New York's finest to flock to the Hampton's for the summer season. "I've already spoken with the contractors and they've guaranteed the build to be completed by May, at the very latest. I have interior designers on-hold ready for your final approval. Consider it your own little project." While the majority of Conrad's efforts were mainstreamed at Grayson Global, he had become increasingly aware of how restless Victoria had felt with so little to fill her time with. "What do you think?"

The name 'Grayson Manor' captivated Victoria and she admired the brief sketch, "I think it's perfect."

"Then should I assume those are happy tears?" Conrad reached forward and brushed the residue from her eyes.

She echoed his laugh and nodded her head. Gently setting the design folder to one side, Victoria poised herself for her confession. "Since it seems to be the hour for surprises, it just so happens that I have one of my own." A look of curiosity arose within Conrad's features and Victoria smiled brightly, "I'm pregnant, Conrad."

Those three words seemed to remove the breath from his lungs and his voice became a hushed whisper, "Are you sure?" Five months had passed since the miscarriage and, although they had assured one another of their decision to try for another child, Conrad had done his best not to apply pressure to Victoria.

Victoria nodded her head, in confirmation. Naturally, given the winter season, the family had assumed Victoria had come into contact with the flu that seeped its way through the population at the time of year but the bouts of sickness that occurred purely in the morning hour had aroused Victoria's suspicion. "The test was positive. I booked an appointment with Dr Langdon as soon as we return to New York to confirm but I'm sure." For the sake of her own privacy, Victoria couldn't disclose exactly what her certainty relied upon but her craving of apples at the most peculiar times had been reminiscent of her first pregnancy. "We're going to have a baby."


	9. Daniel Edward Grayson

**August 1987 – Southampton, Suffolk Memorial Hospital**

After nine hours of relentless labour and weighing in at just 7 pounds and eight ounces, baby boy Grayson finally made his long-awaited debut.

"He's so beautiful, Victoria." In absolute wonder of the miracle child in her arms, Conrad diverted his gaze between his wife and newborn son. He had a full head of dark hairs, just a shade lighter than hers, and a collection of faint freckles at the bridge of his nose. An expression of absolute content settled upon his features, as he looked up into his mother's eyes, which mirrored the emotion. Her jaw appeared to have permanently positioned itself into a wide smile and her happiness exceeded any other moment Conrad had witnessed in her.

"He's so big," his wife remarked, as her eyes closely examined every inch of the newborn. In comparison to the excruciating seventeen hours of labour she had endured with Patrick, Daniel's birth had been relatively quick but the pain had far surpassed her first experience of childbirth. The weight of her second born, nearly two pounds heavier than her first, was the most likely explanation.

As the new parents marvelled over their child, Elizabeth returned to the private hospital room. While her husband had been notably absent, Elizabeth had been present for every second of her grandchild's arrival. Like a small child to her mother on the first day of school, Victoria had clung to her mother-in-law and sought solace in the soft, soothing effect of her voice as each contraction struck her abdomen. With the expertise of any other woman who had endured labour herself, Elizabeth had wiped the beads of sweat from Victoria's forehead and constantly rehydrated her with an endless supply of ice cold water. "I finally managed to track your father down," Elizabeth announced. She had little intention of revealing Edward's whereabouts, for it would inevitably cast a shadow over the happy occasion. In any case, after forty years of marriage, Elizabeth had become well-acquainted with both the advantages and disadvantages of what it meant to be Mrs Grayson. She could only hope that her husband's behaviour only influenced Conrad in the boardroom, rather than the bedroom.

"Where was he?" Conrad needled his mother for an explanation. While he appreciated that his mother's comfort had been paramount to Victoria, Conrad had longed for the support of his father. In spite of his determination to be present for the birth, there were moments when the reality of the moment had overwhelmed him. Back and forth, he had paced the hospital floor and questioned his ability to become a parent. It was the silly kind of self-doubts that Conrad had naturally assumed his father would be present to brush off.

Elizabeth shook her head and avoided eye contact, "In some long-distance call with an international investor." Her son visibly questioned her response and, in an effort to make her lie appear more digestible, Elizabeth raised her eyebrow, "Needless to say, that pretty little assistant of his will be looking for work elsewhere. She passed on none of the messages I left for him before we drove to the hospital."

Thankfully, a small cry erupted from Daniel and distracted Conrad from the conversation. "Looks like someone's pretty tired." As their son restlessly wriggled, Victoria reluctantly transferred him into Conrad's arms, who settled him into the hospital cot and tucked the baby blue blanket around his tiny form.

"I'm sure he's not the only one," Elizabeth remarked. "Victoria, sweetheart, you must be exhausted. Conrad, why don't you and I get some coffee and fresh air while we wait for your father?"

Evidently reluctant, Conrad peered into the hospital cot; the newborn had started to embraced his first deep slumber since arrival and the birth had visibly drained Victoria. "Mom's right, you should try and rest." Hungover from the supply of Entonox that had slowly started to wear off, Victoria struggled to force her eyes half-open for another moment. The drowsiness that it produced had started to take full effect, as the doctor had forewarned. "I won't be long, okay?" A half-hearted groan vibrated from her throat, as Victoria had already succumbed to the slumber that her body craved. Running one hand through her tangled tresses, which had been scraped back with a scrunchie but still fell far beyond her shoulders, Conrad hovered over his near-unconscious wife and whispered, "I am so proud of you, Victoria." The calmness Victoria had displayed throughout the labour of their son had been notably less panicked than Conrad's hysteria. His heart had pounded so much that, at one point, Conrad suspected it would beat through his chest. Even the doctor had expressed surprise at how placid Victoria appeared to be for a first-time mother in childbirth. In fact, Victoria's labour had been one of stark contrast to the slapstick narration his father recalled of Conrad's arrival into the world; how his mother had sworn then and there that she would never tolerate childbirth again. In an ironically sad twist, his parents failed to conceive another child. The exhaustion of childbirth had finally overwhelmed Victoria and the soft whisper of his voice lulled her into a light slumber that deepened once her eyes fluttered shut. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, "Sleep well, my darling."

* * *

As Elizabeth snapped an impromptu picture – the three generations of Grayson men – Edward beamed with more pride than Conrad, if it were at all possible. "My grandson," he declared. Both father and son had awaited the arrival of the Grayson heir for far longer than nine months. "Still baby boy Grayson?" Edward disapprovingly noted the name scribbled on the tag loosely wrapped around the newborn's tiny wrist.

Aware of his father's disappointment, Conrad shrugged his shoulders and nodded in confirmation. "Until we can agree on a name for him, at least." The final month of Victoria's pregnancy had rendered her practically bed-ridden. A merciless heatwave of the summer season caused fatigue after the slightest activity and, as a result, her time had consumed of the final preparation for their child's arrival; selecting a name for the new addition. However, despite the endless stream of baby-name books that were strewn around Grayson Manor, Conrad and Victoria had failed to agree upon an appropriate name for their anticipated newborn.

"Well, there's plenty of time for that," his mother assured. "I think we've bombarded this little one with enough attention for one day, don't you?" Though her mind overflowed with ideas of how to spoil her grandson rotten, Elizabeth didn't wish to overwhelm Victoria in the first few hours of motherhood.

"I suppose you're right," her husband grudgingly followed her instruction. Conrad and Victoria shared smiles of amusement, when Elizabeth patted her husband on the back, in an effort to usher him from the hospital room. "But we'll be back first thing in the morning," Edward insisted, sneaking one final look at the newborn, who had peacefully slept through his introduction to the Grayson patriarch.

"I'll call you when the doctor decides to release them," Conrad kissed his mother's cheek.

"Alright, darling." Thankfully, his parents had decided to reside at Grayson Manor for the final week before the birth, which allowed his mother to oversee the last-minute preparations required for the baby's arrival. "Take good care of them, okay?" She raised her forefinger inches from his face to reiterate the seriousness of her request and Conrad smiled to himself. It was moments like that, in which Conrad witnessed the depth of his mother's affection for Victoria, which was a relief, given how the bond she had shared with Steph. In actual fact, Conrad had started to think his mother and Victoria were even closer than that. While they had rarely discussed the subject, it was indisputable to those who knew her well enough that Victoria lacked a mother figure in her life due to her own mother's inexplicable absence. As time passed by, Elizabeth had swept Victoria, quite unwittingly underneath her wing and the birth of their son only proved to strengthen the bond shared. "You know where we are if you need us," his mother whispered, as she followed Edward's path.

The newfound grandparents departed the room, air-kisses launched in Victoria's direction, and Conrad returned to his wife's bedside with a tender expression. "So, what do you think?" Confusion washed over Victoria's face and Conrad grasped her hand within his, "I'd say Grayson Manor's big enough for another five kids, at least." His wife rolled her eyes and giggled at the very thought. "Hey, you may laugh now but you promised me another ten. Of course, you were pretty out of it but that still stands as a verbal contract."

A deep laugh slurred from her throat. There had been a point in her life when she didn't think she would allow another man to touch her much less father her child. To think it had been nearly fifteen years since she had given birth to Patrick; she had been naïve enough to think it would be them against the world until the day she died. The notion of a large family seemed like an impossible dream after she lost him. "I wouldn't get too ahead of myself, if I were you. We'll see how differently you feel on the subject when you're awake with a screaming baby at three in the morning." Though she would be spared some of the difficulties she had faced as a young, single mother with Patrick, Victoria didn't underestimate how trying the first few months of their child's life would be for both herself and Conrad. While Conrad had concocted a list of highly-recommended live-in nurses to help Victoria, she had turned the offer down flat. She still wasn't entirely accustomed to the intrusion of the staff at Grayson Manor, who she had only accepted once the upkeep of such a stately home became impossible. "Besides, we haven't even settled on a name for this baby yet."

"Well, now that we've met him, do any names come to mind?" Although Conrad had attempted to convince his wife to decide the child's name – dependent on its gender – Victoria had been reluctant to commit to a name until the baby had arrived. "He can't be baby boy Grayson forever, you know?" Like his father, Conrad was itching to release a statement to announce the arrival, which required an official name.

Victoria hesitantly glanced over at the newborn, "How about Daniel?"

Perhaps, it was his predisposition to bow to Victoria's every request, in an effort to make her happy, but Conrad suddenly broke into a grin of great approval. "Daniel's perfect." It possessed a peaceful kind of strength to it.

"Daniel Edward Grayson," Victoria concluded, "That should please your father, don't you think?" She jokingly remarked and Conrad nodded his head, astounded. The look of bewilderment and consternation settled upon his features and Victoria lifted her hand to caress his cheek, "What is it?"

His hand overlapped hers, tenderly stroking it, "Nothing, I just… I have never felt more content than I do in this moment." It felt as if they were the only three people in the world and, in a sense, they were… the only three people that mattered in Conrad's world, anyway. He didn't know what he had done to deserve Victoria and he was certain he would spend the rest of his life terrified to lose her.


	10. Grayson Manor of Horrors

**October 1990 – Southampton, Grayson Manor**

The captivating jazz anthem of _I Put A Spell On You_ by Nina Simone reverberated around Grayson Manor. From the indoor balcony, that adjoined the stairway and overlooked the central floor, Victoria observed her guests. She simultaneously dreaded and relished events like the annual Halloween celebration. Though she rarely celebrated the holiday herself, she had been raised with the notion that Halloween was purely for children but Conrad slyly exploited the occasion to increase the status of Grayson Global. It had been exactly that, which had been the very source of her frustration. Without any kind of explanation, Conrad had remained notably absent from the festivities and Victoria had been forced to endure the incessant small-talk in his stead.

Deciding she could no longer withdraw from her guests, Victoria started her descent back into the madness but paused at the sound of the front door opening and closing shut. Friends nearby greeted Conrad, as he snaked between them and reached the foot of the stairs. "My dear..." Enchanted by her appearance, Conrad canvassed his wife with absolute approval.

She defiantly glared back, righteous in her wrath, until Bill Harmon interrupted the conversation Conrad and Victoria shared solely by the look in one another's nudged Conrad's arm, "If you didn't know any better, you'd swear she were the real thing, wouldn't you?"

"I didn't realise you dressed up as the green-eyed monster this year, Bill?" Conrad quizzically responded, a quip at the envy Bill didn't bother to suppress and the two men burst into laughter. The amusement quickly faded, once both caught a glimpse of Victoria's dead-pan expression and Bill silently excused himself, fearful of the storm that Victoria had been brewing in Conrad's absence. "He's right, you know?" Conrad started up the stairs, meeting his wife at the halfway point. Her thick, ebony locks were perfectly straightened into position and a golden headpiece crowned her head; her decision to dress as Cleopatra seemed almost prophetic. She entered every room with the same dominance Cleopatra possessed when she entered Rome. Her outfit, like that of a Greek goddess, accentuated the figure that had only improved with motherhood. "Elizabeth Taylor may be the most beautiful woman in the world but she's got nothing on you, sweetheart."

Beneath the emerald shade of eyeshadow, her eyes danced, "Oh... you are going to have to do much better than that, Conrad." She patted his shoulder, a hellish laugh escaping her lips, as she waltzed past him.

* * *

The hours passed, the alcohol flowed and the tension between Conrad and Victoria increased. Whatever attempt he made to explain his late arrival, she scorned. She publicly rebuffed his request to dance with her and, instead, indulged in the endless refills of alcoholic refreshments that hired waiters paraded back and forth.

When Victoria voluntarily allowed herself to become the focus of Jason Prosser's carnal attention, Conrad finally reached his limit. He advanced toward the secluded table Jason and Victoria occupied. Neither Jason or Victoria made little effort to acknowledge Conrad's arrival. In particular, Victoria did her best to disregard her husband's presence. "Victoria, may I speak with you in private?" She snatched her arm from his tender touch and, from across the room, a collection of Grayson Global employees covertly spied the showdown. "Victoria." His voice became stern, replacing his hand on her arm. The hostile atmosphere between husband and wife dismantled Jason's composure and he stifled a laugh, as his long-time adversary struggled to contain the scene that threatened minor embarrassment in front of investors. Once again, Victoria snatched her arm from Conrad's grasp but rose to her feet, as instructed, and made a beeline for the master bedroom. Safely out of earshot of their guests, Conrad slammed the door shut. "Alright, what the hell is matter with you?"

Feigning confusion, Victoria shook her head, "Nothing."

"I understand you're upset but you have refused to even give me the chance to explain myself," Conrad lectured. He had become exasperated by her immature nature; it was reminiscent of Steph's stubbornness, the drinking was all too familiar as well. It caused him to wonder if, perhaps, his behaviour had been the root of her problems. After all, it had been Conrad's devotion to Grayson Global that had induced the critical cracks in their marriage. By his own admission, he had concentrated the majority of his efforts into the company as the economy endured a turbulent, if minor, recession. However, he had made genuine assurances that Victoria and Daniel would both become his sole focus, as soon as investors' fears were quelled.

"Because I don't care for your explanations, Conrad." She replied, in a carefree sing-song tone. She had voiced her concerns of Conrad's emotional distance from herself, and their son, to no avail. She refused to repeat herself. Whether Conrad made the adequate changes to his behaviour was entirely his prerogative.

"Victoria, I have apologised to you, over and over." He droned, frantic for a resolution. "I had a business call with an overseas investor that couldn't be avoided."

The arrogance of her husband never failed to irate Victoria. He addressed her as if she had little perspective of the world he wheeled-and-dealed in. "Conrad, this house is swarming with investors. Do you mean to tell me that not one of those investors downstairs could have been just as beneficial to whatever crisis you have going at the office this week?" She had admired him, once upon a time, for his dedication to Grayson Global but, as the company threatened his level of involvement as a father, and a husband, Victoria had grown disheartened and downright concerned. "For three hours, I was forced to engage in trivial chit-chat about which new college Mrs Huber's niece has decided to transfer to and endure Bill Harmon's trite puns of how Cleopatra had been involved with Julius Caesar long before she met Marc Anthony." Although Conrad had failed to dress for the occasion, in the outfit he and Victoria had co-ordinated before the event, Bill's costume provided him ample ammunition to adorn Victoria with the kind of innuendos that bordered on sexual harassment.

The source of her anger was understandable and Conrad raised his hands, defensively. "Alright, I'm sorry." He internally reminded himself to informally review Bill's behaviour with his employee at a more appropriate time. "His behaviour is unacceptable but yours isn't much of an improvement," he scolded, in addition. Her belligerent mood had dampened the occasion, guests were visibly torn between being amused and terrorised by her.

"You know, Conrad, I'm beginning to understand how Stevie must have felt being married to you." It was the most antagonistic comment that would undoubtedly rile him, and Victoria knew it. As if to add to the effect, she swirled the contents of her Champagne flute and absorbed the golden fizz.

"You know, it's funny you should mention that, Victoria. I'm having a distinct sense of déjà vu." In spite of their rather calm delivery, the sour words were evidence of Conrad's temper imploding. The seriousness of their bitter exchanges could always be measured by whether or not his ex-wife was inadvertently dragged into the confrontation. "Steph may have had her faults but your level of petulance wasn't one of them." Enraged, Victoria flung the empty flute in Conrad's direction. Had he not ducked from the blow, allowing the crystal to shatter against the bedroom wall, he would have witnessed Victoria struggle to steady her own two feet. In the near-three years that Victoria had become a mother to Daniel, barely a drop of alcohol had passed her lips and she thoroughly regretted the impulsive resolution to drown her sorrows as she became startlingly light-headed. Recovering from the abrupt attack, Conrad regained his height and dusted the remnants of liquid that had splattered onto his suit. "Any other evening, I would be happy to wrestle with the hellcat I married but those people downstairs are guests in our home. They didn't come here to be subjected to this kind of humiliation." The size of Grayson Manor would have made little difference to how public their supposedly private spat was. No doubt, the gossips would exaggerate the evening into one of scandalous nature and whispers of divorce would be on the horizon, for the majority of their guests would relish their downfall. Many of the socialite wives had been fond of Steph – if friendship was, in fact, one of their inherent capabilities – and Conrad surveyed how eagerly they had scrutinized Victoria, and her excessive consumption of alcohol. "I suggest you stay up here until you've cooled off."

Her husband whirled from the room, his stride as composed as ever, and Victoria rolled her eyes, mentally bemoaning how he reprimanded her. If she had been consulted, her opinion so much as considered, she would have refused the grand celebration and opted to celebrate the holiday with their son but it was Conrad's law by default. Instead, Edward and Elizabeth had been the ones fortunate enough to dress Daniel in the hand-made pumpkin outfit Elizabeth had stitched, and recite the child-friendly ghost stories of Halloween. It didn't matter to Victoria that Daniel was barely two years old, a bubbly toddler with zero concept of what the season was about. It was his absence that grieved her. Furious, with herself as much as Conrad, she shook her head.

* * *

The early hours of the morning arrived and Conrad had soon run out of excuses not to retire to the master bedroom he shared with Victoria. While the party had wound down, and the hired staff began the tremendous clean-up in the aftermath, Conrad had excused himself to his home office. In the hours after their argument, Victoria had remained isolated from their guests and Conrad dreaded what lay in wait for him.

"Goodnight, Mr Grayson." The head house-keeper gathered her belongings from the allocated cloakroom and hurried out the door, thankful that the elaborate celebration had reached its inevitable end.

"Goodnight." Brandy in hand, Conrad closed the doors to the office and flashed an appreciative smile at the older woman. She had been hired shortly after Grayson Manor had been built and, therefore, witness to the four years he and Victoria had been married; he wondered what she must have thought of them. Did she envy their wealth and endless fortune, or did she consider such material things the source of misery? His questions were more than likely an attempt to delay the inevitable and Conrad slowly started up the stairs. Bracing himself, Conrad paused outside the bedroom and deliberated whether the shut door was a signal that he should sleep elsewhere for the night. He thought better of it. "Victoria?" The room was shrouded in darkness but for the moonlight that streamed in from the open doors to the cupola and Conrad viewed Victoria's sleeping form entangled in the sheets. In stark contrast to her earlier appearance, her face had been stripped of the make-up and she wore a far more peaceful expression. The brush of his hand upon her arm failed to stir Victoria from her intoxicated slumber but the coolness of her skin caused Conrad to wrap an additional blanket around her shoulders and firmly shut the doors to the cupola. His rage had long subsided, he could only hope hers had too.

Discretely, Conrad dove into the en-suite and re-emerged after five minutes. The hushed movement had roused Victoria into a lighter sleep, semi-aware of her husband, as he climbed underneath the sheets beside her but established enough distance between them to avoid any physical contact. "Conrad?"

Reluctant to engage in further malice, Conrad faintly whispered, "I'm here." She didn't respond and he said a silent prayer that Victoria had restrained herself from rousing any more bad blood between them. Instead, she arched her body and curled into him from behind, her arm draping over his waist and her legs rubbing softly against his own. "Is that an apology I'm sensing?" A drunken wail was stifled, as Victoria buried her face into his back, and Conrad chuckled half-heartedly, "Go back to sleep, sweetheart. We'll talk about it in the morning."


	11. Hawaiian Paradise

**September 1992 – Hawaii, Hilton Hawaiian Village Beach Resort & Spa**

Conrad audibly cleared his throat, attracting the attention of the many esteemed employees he had invited to the executive retreat. "If I could have your attention for a moment, please?" As Conrad addressed the congregation, Victoria hitched herself to his side and he raised his flute of Dom Perignon, "First and foremost, thank you to Carole, for organising this trip on my behalf." His secretary smiled, as her colleagues applauded in appreciation. "And, secondly, thank you to all of you. In spite of these troubled times, your hard work has ensured Grayson Global to be one of the most prosperous hedge funds in the world. That, as my wife so duly noted, deserved a reward." A shy smile graced Victoria's lips but, unaware to those surrounding her, her body exhaled from the disillusionment she had suffered since Conrad failed to make good on the promises that backdated, at least, three years. His involvement as a husband and father had dwindled further; she and Daniel languished behind as an after-thought to the prosperity of Grayson Global. "Before you go away and reap that reward for all its worth, I would like you all to join me in a toast..." The assembly raised their flutes alongside Conrad and Victoria, as instructed, and the hired photographer continued to snap candid shots for the press release Conrad had pre-planned. "To Grayson Global."

* * *

"Everything okay?" Lydia approached Victoria, who had purposely secluded herself from the festivities. "Conrad sent me over here to test the waters, so to speak." She crouched to Victoria's level and positioned herself on the greenery that overlooked the beach, a distance away from the celebration behind them.

Victoria rolled her eyes at Conrad's cowardice and continued her beautifully portrayed charade, "I'm fine."

"I know you better than that." In her brief year of employment at Grayson Global, hired as secretary to one of its executives, Lydia had struck up a friendship with Victoria. Whenever Conrad declined her offers of an impromptu lunch, or neglected to placate her many cries for attention, Lydia had picked up the pieces and the two women had conjured quite the rapport with one another. "What's wrong, Victoria?"

"It's Daniel's first day of school tomorrow," Victoria confided, her heart at its heaviest. "And, instead of being there to reassure him, I'll be here in Hawaii, sipping Mai-Tai's to celebrate the success of Grayson Global." The promise that both Edward and Elizabeth would be present to register and collect Daniel from school had provided little difference to Victoria's vehement reaction. Had Daniel not pledged himself, no doubt at his father's request, that he was 'grown-up' enough to start school without his mother present, Victoria would have refused to board the private jet that had flown them to Honolulu.

Though Lydia had no children of her own, nor did she care to, she appreciated how much Victoria adored her son and how difficult absence from such a milestone of his life must feel. "I'm sure he'll be alright. You're only a phone call away," she supportively rubbed Victoria's arm. Her friend flashed a bogus smile; it had been the exact words Edward, Elizabeth and Conrad had offered, in answer to her distress. Aware that her positive outlook had little effect on Victoria, Lydia nonchalantly shrugged her shoulders, "If it bothers you that much, there's nothing stopping you from jumping on the next plane and flying back to New York tonight." Half-tempted to consider the suggestion, Victoria exhaled a small laugh and shook her head and Lydia playfully nudged her arm, "Or we could just get drunk on Mai-Tai's?" Somewhat less subdued, Victoria radiated with a toothless grin and the two women giggled softly between themselves.

As he approached from behind, eavesdropping slightly on the conversation, Conrad relaxed at the sound of Victoria's soft laugh. "Now, that is music to my ears," he noted, announcing his arrival.

Lydia glanced over her shoulder and flashed Conrad a reassuring look, as if to confirm he had entered a safety zone, and rose to her feet. There were times Lydia wondered whether Victoria fathomed quite how much her husband adored her. "If you'll both excuse me, I promised Michael I would call him."

"Ah, young love at its finest." Conrad teasingly declared, "You've been apart, what, 48 hours at most." Lydia's lips twisted into a bashful smile and she wandered back into the direction of the hotel. Once the blonde departed from earshot, Conrad offered his hand forward and assisted Victoria to her own feet. "I know a work vacation wasn't exactly what you had in mind but we're not obligated to spend the entire week with them, you know?" He attempted to pitch the executive retreat that Victoria had made her resentment of quite evident. "We could find a local restaurant, somewhere on the beach –"

"I'm actually still a little jet-lagged from the flight," Victoria murmured. Her fingers rubbed her temple, in an effort to support her rejection of his romantic proposal.

Adorning a tropical-blue dress and white flower in her hair, Victoria looked anything but jet-lagged from the ten-hour flight from New York. She had an ethereal quality about her, like that of an earth-mother. It was often said that beauty equated to happiness but Conrad noted how alluring his wife made misery appear. Conflicted by whether to confront Victoria's emotional withdrawal from him, Conrad instead elected to play dumb and feigned an expression of concern. "Well, perhaps you should rest." He ran his fingers through her hair and massaged the back of her neck, "Book yourself in for a day at the spa and try to relax." Victoria softly moaned in agreement, leaning into his touch and Conrad kissed her forehead. There were often moments when Victoria didn't feel quite so neglected by her husband but they had become so fleeting that she failed to even respond to them. He had disregarded her qualms that he regarded her as nothing more than a 'trophy wife' but actions were much louder than words and Conrad's behaviour spoke volumes. "We can order something from room service tonight."

Victoria shook her head, retracting from him, "You should join the others for dinner."

Further disenamoured by her cold shoulder, Conrad frowned, "Honey, I know things have been rough lately but the company's back on track and, soon enough, I'll have enough time on my hands for us to have a real, family vacation. Just the three of us, wherever you want," he vowed. Given that he had broken his many pledges beforehand, Conrad couldn't blame Victoria for refraining from melting into his arms at the mere sound of another promise but he also couldn't disguise his resentment of her emotional distance from him.

Breaking the silence between them, Victoria forced a smile for the sake of it. "I think I'll go lie down for a little while. I just need to catch up on some sleep, that's all," she justified her attempt to flee from the confrontation she had long-anticipated. When Conrad failed to dispute her plan of escape, Victoria turned and wandered back into the direction of the hotel.

Bypassing Victoria, who avoided eye contact, Bill approached Conrad, "Trouble in paradise, boss?" His smarmy attitude usually amused Conrad but the sensitivity of the issue at hand riled his anger.

"Try not to sound too happy about it," he furiously warned.

"You know, they say 75% of married couples over forty have higher blood pressure than those that are single?" Bill chuckled, delighted by Conrad's predicament. "Whatever they tell you about the sanctity of marriage, don't believe it. It's a risk to your health, mental and physical." He bantered, as the two men retreated to the nearest open bar and Conrad ordered himself another drink. "Why do you think I'm still a bachelor?"

"I thought it was because women couldn't stand you," Conrad cajoled, half-serious in his remark.

"What about you, David?" He placed his hand on David's back, inviting him into the conversation. "Women; they're more trouble then they're worth, am I right?" A faint, nervous laugh escaped David's lips, as uncertain of Bill as he was Conrad. "Don't even get me started on kids." The two men erupted into further laughter, of which Conrad failed to join, as he watched Victoria retreat inside the hotel. Disenchanted, he removed the bright yellow flowered garland from his neck.


	12. Actions and Reactions

**May 1993 – Southampton,** **Grayson Manor**

With the Grayson Global picnic in full swing, business investors and executives mingled on the lawn of Grayson Manor and Conrad weaved his way through the crowd, in search of one of the company's finest. "David?"

Always somewhat nervous in the presence of the company's president, David pinned his hands together at his front and pleasantly smiled, "Mr Grayson. It's quite the party," he noted. It was just one of many events his employer had invited him to but it certainly trumped the quaint definition of 'picnic' David had foreseen.

"I'm glad you could make it." Unlike the majority of his employees, David Clarke rarely made an appearance at the extravagant parties hosted by himself and Victoria. In spite of his rising star at Grayson Global and, subsequently, growing bank account, David remained unapologetically middle-class and Conrad admired him. He appreciated the kind of family values that Conrad hoped Grayson Global represented to its investors. "And I see you brought a date," Conrad quipped, in acknowledgement of the blonde-haired child glued to his side, which provoked a shy giggle from the girl, and David playfully ruffled Amanda's curls. "You must be Amanda." The child nodded her head, in confirmation, and Conrad crouched lower to reach her eye-level. "You know, there are a stack of cupcakes over there that my wife likes to pretend are entirely homemade, so why don't you tuck in?" A nudge of assurance from her father sent Amanda flying to the intoxicating display of refreshments that promised to please even the sweetest-tooth. Rising to his original height, Conrad guided David to walk with him. "I'm glad I have a chance to speak with you, David. I wanted to discuss the Crowley investment with you."

"About that –" David opened his mouth to speak. It had been pure luck that David had landed himself one of his biggest investments ever – and the most prominent for Grayson Global, since Conrad had accepted its reigns – when a woman named Helen Crowley approached him. In the wake of her father's death, Helen had inherited his entire fortune but none of the business savvy to handle such administer such fortune. Luckily for David, she readily accepted his proposal to invest with Grayson Global. However, Conrad decided to execute the entire investment by his own merit and, although it was his prerogative to do so as the company C.E.O., David failed to disguise his disappointment.

"I understand you weren't happy with my decision to oversee the investment myself and I simply wanted to explain my decision," Conrad interrupted David's attempt to voice his upset. "While you have been an asset to Grayson Global, you are still considered a rookie within the company and, considering the amount Miss Crowley is willing to invest, I felt it best that I handle her account personally."

After a moment's hesitation, David obediently nodded his head, "I understand." Secretly, David disagreed with the decision but, as Bill Harmon had personally warned him, Conrad ruled Grayson Global with an iron fist and it was in his best interest to accept it and move forward.

"Conrad, your father's looking for you." The vision that was Victoria broke the tempestuous silence between the two businessmen and David felt his heart skip a literal beat. There was something so celestial about her, it was as if she were untouchable, and it stirred a kind of desire David hadn't experienced since Kara. "He wants to introduce you to an investor, I think." The slight groan of her voice insinuated her exhaustion of the façade she had displayed at numerous Grayson events but a content smile settled on her lips when she greeted the man her husband engaged in conversation with, "Hello, David."

"Victoria," David forcibly swallowed the lump in his throat, like that of a teenager in lust.

"It's wonderful to have you here, you so rarely join us at these kind of celebrations." She remarked, as Conrad relented to his father's hand-signalled persistence to join him and ducked from the conversation. Since their initial introduction at the New Year's Eve celebration of '91, their paths had rarely intertwined but, whenever they did, David appeared as inexplicably drawn to her as she were to him. "How are you?"

"I –" Before David could respond, a commotion arose on the lawn that attracted their attention and David noticed the guests huddle over an unconscious body, with a distinct mass of blonde curls, "Amanda!"

* * *

"Mr and Mrs Clarke?" The doctor withdrew from Amanda's hospital room, approaching David and Victoria.

Overwhelmed with fear for his daughter's health, David didn't bother to correct her. "How's Amanda?" In a speed that challenged lightening, David had rushed to his daughter's aid upon her collapse and, thankfully, Victoria had taken the initiative to summon a doctor among the guests to stabilize Amanda, until the paramedics arrived at Grayson Manor. "Is she going to be alright?"

"Your daughter's absolutely fine. She suffered an allergic reaction, that's all." Relief overwhelmed David, burying his face in his hands and releasing the utter panic that had almost driven him mad. "It will take just a little while to process her release but you're welcome to sit with her until then."

Medical records in hand, the doctor disappeared within a flash and Victoria placed one hand on her chest, in an effort to steady her own heartbeat, "Oh, David, thank God."

Exhaling heavily, David paced and studied his daughter through the glass window, where she sat upright in the hospital bed and chatted to the hospital nurse in her usual carefree manner. A sense of normality returned and David viewed Victoria with an unending gratitude. "Thank you for riding in the ambulance." In spite of Conrad's protest, Victoria had climbed into the paramedic vehicle and insisted that she escort David and Amanda to the hospital. Whether it was because she felt responsible for Amanda's collapse at Grayson Manor or not, David couldn't be certain but he wasn't sure he cared either. She had been such a calming effect, her words soothing assurance into him, that her presence was much appreciated. "I don't know what I would have done without you."

"I'm just relieved she's alright," Victoria dismissed his remark.

"You know, ever since her mother –" David shook his head, memories of his wife best forgotten. That had been the last time David had been forced to suffer the endless wait in a hospital room, as Amanda's life hung in the balance. He had sworn himself to secrecy of Kara's unforgivable sins.

Her hand appeared on his shoulder, dragging him back to the present. "David, Amanda is going to be alright." Though she had little knowledge of how his wife had died, Victoria didn't struggle to comprehend how frightened David must have felt to lose his child to a similar fate. It was reminiscent of how much she cherished Daniel; her over-protection of him was to shelter herself from the same heartache she had suffered in Patrick's absence, fearful that she would lose another son. She cautiously wrapped her arms around him further, hoping to alleviate the strain in his eyes and David melted into her embrace. Whatever it was about Victoria that intoxicated him, David had lost the will to fight it. An air of electricity filled the silence between them, as their eyes locked on one another. Like it were the most natural thing in the world, he bridged the space between them and cupped his palm around her cheek. Her velvet, porcelain skin in stark contrast to such dark eyes that darkened further by his touch. Tentatively, David swept her body closer to his and meshed his lips onto hers. It was something he had longed to do, since the New Year's Eve they were introduced and the executive retreat in Hawaii, where he had admired her from a distance. Unlike the reality that rarely matched up to the dream, she surpassed all expectations. Overwhelmed by passion, his lungs emptied as she deepened the kiss and lingered there until David retreated, his expression one of a man who had just crashed back down to earth. "Victoria..."

"Mr Clarke?" The doctor returned, at the most inopportune moment. "I have Amanda's release forms ready for you to sign, if you'd just follow me?" She motioned for David to approach the nurses desk, and Victoria meekly followed behind him. "Sign here and here," she instructed. "Now, I spoke to Amanda and it would seem that just before she collapsed, she recalled eating some strawberries. It's not a problem," the doctor matter-of-factly assured them, diverting her gaze between the two adults she assumed to be the patient's parents. "Allergies to fruit are quite common among children and most grow out of food allergies by the time they reach adulthood." She accepted the signed release forms from David, "I've treated Amanda with Adrenaline and she's stable enough that I'm happy to release her but, if you have any concerns, any signs of dizziness or nausea, any effect on her breathing, don't hesitate to bring her straight back."

"Thank you, doctor." David nodded, comprehending the information. The doctor flashed him a curt smile and withdrew to the next patient on her list, as David turned on his heel and discovered Victoria had also fled in the other direction. "Victoria?" She disappeared from sight and David exhaled heavily, in an attempt to rally himself to focus purely on his daughter. A smile plastered on his face, he entered her hospital room, "Hey, champ."


	13. Home Truths

**July 1993 – Southampton,** **Grayson Manor**

"Victoria?"

Her husband's greeting echoed from the darkness that hindered her vision and Victoria instinctively wandered to the home office Conrad treasured. Sunken into his leather chair, his eyes were like a wolf in the night. "Conrad?" It was rare for him to return before Victoria had retired for the evening, if he even bothered to commute back and forth from the city. He hadn't confided in her but, from what Victoria could gather, a storm lingered on the horizon for Grayson Global. "You're home early tonight. How are things at the office?"

He avoided eye contact, consuming the contents of the tumbler in his hand. His foul mood indicated the answer to her question and Victoria ventured further toward him. "Where were you tonight?"

"Walking on the beach," Victoria half-truthfully replied. The grains of sand still lingered between the ridges of her shoes from her rendezvous with David. After seven years of marriage, Victoria had broken her vows for the first time but she had come to realisation that her affair with David was far more than a meaningless fling.

Though his sullen expression should have been adequate warning, the three words stunned Victoria into a panic-stricken silence. "With David Clarke?" Her eyes watered with tears and Conrad would have ordinarily tripped over himself to banish them but his rage trumped any love he mustered in his heart for Victoria. He raised his hand, pinching his thumb and forefinger together, "I came this close to firing Bill Harmon today but he shared a very valuable piece of information with me and I decided his kind of loyalty should be rewarded." The humiliation had almost been too much to bear; to discover one of his employees had committed the ultimate act of betrayal. Thankfully, Bill treasured his position within the company enough to swear his allegiance to Conrad and handle the matter at hand with the utmost discretion. "Now, I have to wonder how your treachery should be rewarded." Accepting of whatever punishment Conrad sought to deliver, Victoria had feared, if not prepared herself, for the confrontation once Conrad learnt of the affair. "Well..." her husband demanded, challenging her failure to react to the accusation. He had prayed she would revoke his claims but, somehow, he knew it to be true. Their marriage had been faltering for years, so much so that Conrad wondered why Victoria hadn't indulged in an extra-marital affair before but his mind refused to wander into that jungle. "Aren't you going to deny it?" She softly shook her head. "Am I to assume that this has something to do with the five million withdrawn from the joint account?" She inwardly kicked herself. It had been such a rookie mistake; she should have assumed Conrad kept a keen eye on the account. "Well, Mr Clarke is more than welcome to it." He rose from behind his desk and poured himself another drink. "Consider it severance pay, if you will, because that bastard is finished on Wall Street."

"Conrad –"

He dismissively waved his hand to silence Victoria. "I don't care for your apologies or your excuses, however you justify your behaviour doesn't matter to me, so long as you understand that this little affair of yours is over."

Fearful of his renowned temper, Victoria summoned the strength within to contradict his demand. "I love him, Conrad." The words physically pained him and Conrad slammed his eyes shut, knowing they would be eternally etched in his memory. A whimper escaped her lips at the agony her husband expressed, "I'm sorry." No matter the distance between them, she didn't wish to be the source of any pain. Her affair with David was far more than a careless indiscretion at the hands of a bored socialite wife. Although it may have been provoked by her bitter resentment of Conrad's decision to favour Grayson Global over their family, her love for David was pure. Against her better judgement, she had confided in David the kind of things she had sworn she would never reveal, not even to her own husband. Little by little, David had won her heart and her trust.

"I was afraid you might say that." It wasn't what he said, it was the way he said it. It was almost as if he had an ace tucked inside that sleeve of his and Victoria didn't dare underestimate him. "Well, I don't expect you to consider my feelings in all of this but have you given a thought as to how your selfishness affects Daniel?" She rolled her eyes at the emotional extortion Conrad attempted to deliver. While Victoria understood it wasn't the best of circumstances to raise Daniel in – undoubtedly, it would be a contentious divorce – it would have been foolish to think he hadn't been sensitive to the cracks in their marriage.

"Have you given a thought as to how your absence has affected him?" Victoria bravely contended.

His hand slammed onto the wooden desk, like a deadweight hammer and Victoria's body shook with fright at the sudden action. "My absence has been **for him** ," Conrad roared, his lungs imploding. "And you." The investment with Helen Crowley had been an ambush upon one of the most prestigious businesses in the world and Conrad had slowly lost control. Once he became aware of their dirty dealings, he had attempted to withdraw from the contract but subtle threats left him no option. His blood had run cold to discover a member of Americon Initiative had approached Daniel, who returned home from summer camp with a message from his associates. He was way out of his depth. "Grayson Global, everything I have ever done has been for my son." Deep breaths calmed his thunderous voice into a dull rumble but the serenity of his words remained, "I've sent Daniel to stay with his grandparents in the city and that is where he will remain." In shock, her head snapped in the direction of the stairs that led to Daniel's bedroom and remained rooted to the spot. Aghast at her confusion, Conrad frowned and refrained from laughing, "Did you honestly think I would risk you running off with him in the middle of the night?"

Her son's absence was probably for the best, in consideration of the atmosphere between them, but Victoria was stiff with fear at the hidden threat. "I won't leave without him." The painful decision to abandon Patrick remained an open-wound and Victoria refused to sacrifice another son, irrespective of the circumstance.

That was exactly what Conrad counted on. In fact, he would happily stake his life on Victoria's dedication to their son. "Well, my dear, it would seem we're at a stalemate because that boy is a Grayson. He is my son and heir and I'll rip you apart in court, before I let you gain custody of him, and I won't have to dig very deep to find many of your skeletons either." Her eyes narrowed and her breathing became rapid; it was the exact reaction Conrad had anticipated, whenever his wife was hounded into a corner. "The same can be said of the dubious Mr Clarke."

"This isn't about David," Victoria protectively shielded David from Conrad's relentless attack.

"On the contrary, this is very much about him." Whatever faults Conrad possessed, he wouldn't allow Victoria to romanticise a man she had known for mere months of her life, at best, though he couldn't be completely certain of when the affair had started. "The man had his own wife committed to a mental institution, Victoria."

"David explained all that," she calmly responded. Her solemn confession as to the existence of Patrick had been prompted by David's own heartfelt admission. To hear how responsible David believed himself to be for Kara's attempt on Amanda's life and to be witness to his deepest insecurities had a profound effect.

"Did he also explain to you that his wife is, in fact, very much alive?" His deadbeat tone stirred a feeling of dread within her. Victoria shook her head, desensitised to Conrad's pathetic, last-ditch attempt to question her love for another man. "See for yourself," Conrad opened the top drawer and chucked a folder onto the desk, paperwork slipping loose from it. Reluctant, but evermore curious of the content, Victoria reached forward and opened the folder that contained medical records for Kara Clarke. In black and white, her worst fears were confirmed; David had lied to her. "He involuntarily committed her and left her there to die, allowing the rest of the world, including her child, to believe she already had." Conrad summarised what information the documents supported and Victoria graced her husband with a stone-cold expression, "So, tell me, Victoria, if his feelings for you were as genuine as he led you to believe, why is it you seem so surprised?"


	14. The Arrest

**August 1993 – Southampton, The Clarke Beach House**

The distressing howls rang in Victoria's ears long after the F.B.I. agent hauled Amanda from the beach house. If only David had confided the truth of Kara before Conrad had cruelly revealed it...

Like her life depended on it, she had dashed to the beach house and fought Conrad's attempt to restrain her, as the mass of F.B.I. agents stampeded into David's home and hauled him to the floor. The downing of flight 197 had been declared a national tragedy just hours after its fatal descent. In the immediate aftermath of the terrorist attack, she had allied herself with Conrad and secured the paper trail. Slowly, but surely, it led authorities to the conclusion that the blood of 246 innocent civilians had been on David's hands – a brutal massacre of human life for sheer financial profit. Whatever rationalisation she formed in her brain, she would never forgive herself for the ruthless act of self-preservation she had committed. The life of her son had been in jeopardy, preyed upon by the very people responsible for the predicament, but the knowledge that Daniel would sleep safe and sound didn't make the moment any more bearable. "David?" In a whim, the swarm of F.B.I. agents bundled David from the beach house and the confusion etched into his features haunted Victoria, almost as much as the helplessness that had befallen Amanda, ripped from her home in the same manner.

Anchoring her back into reality, Conrad's voice drowned out the echo of David's relentless protest. "Victoria?" Those blue eyes widened with concern, as Victoria became drenched with sweat, her eyes distantly vacant. His hand grasped at her arm, in a powerful attempt to prevent her fall.

Her heart pounded within her chest, as if it were bound to burst out of it. "I –" The pain intensified with each rapid breath Victoria struggled to regulate and the words escaped her. "I can't –" Any other victim would assume it to be a heart attack, as her chest tightened to the point that her lungs threatened collapse, but Victoria knew the sensation all too well. "I –." She hadn't suffered a panic attack in years, certainly not since she had been married to Conrad, but it was the culmination after weeks of anxiety. "Conrad –"

"It's alright," he reassuringly stated, all the while knowing, for a fact, it was anything but.

* * *

"Is she going to be alright, doctor?" Behind the closed bedroom door, Conrad's hushed murmurs could be heard and Victoria wrapped the fern green cardigan further around her waist.

"Physically, she's just fine." The private physician confirmed, his tone strictly professional. "Emotionally, though... I'm sure it was rather traumatic to be witness to Mr Clarke's arrest." In spite of the late hour, the news of David's arrest for the downing of flight 197 had already been shared worldwide via various media outlets. "She refused the sedative I offered her so she may be restless." Automatically, Victoria planted her hand on her abdomen. The nausea remained but there was more than one cause for that, as she had discovered earlier that morning. "I understand that the authorities are keen for both Mrs Grayson and yourself to provide a statement but I would strongly advise against it, at least for tonight, and I'll be certain to make my recommendation known to whoever's heading up this investigation."

Relieved, for he pondered how Victoria would possibly provide the accurate statement they had rehearsed in her state of mind, Conrad shook the man's hand. "Thank you, doctor." As he gestured for the doctor to exit, Conrad signaled to Frank, who stood nearby, his hands pinned behind his back. After the jumbo-jet had failed to safely reach its destination of Newark Liberty Airport from London Heathrow, Conrad had contacted the former F.B.I. agent and elicited him to help construct the ultimate cover-up.

Once Conrad and the doctor retreated downstairs, Frank gently knocked on the bedroom and entered the room. Without a word, Frank approached the bar and poured a generous glassful, which Victoria refused with the shake of her head. Instead, he devoured the drink himself. "Are you alright?"

She shrugged her shoulders, as if already knew the answer to his question. In the few weeks Frank had embedded himself into Grayson Manor, he had already become acquainted with more of Victoria's skeletons than even Conrad knew existed. Under pressure from Americon Initiative, Conrad had been blind to yet another ordeal Victoria had been forced to endure when she received cautious communication from someone who believed himself to be her first-born son. The timing couldn't have been worse and, as Victoria wrestled to contain the situation, Frank had the gumption to intervene before she formally responded. At his suggestion, she rebuffed any advances Patrick made to assume himself into her family and, instead, provided ample financial compensation for the defeat. Nevertheless, in spite of the loyalty Frank had shown both herself and Conrad, she maintained a level of discomfort in his presence. "Where's Conrad?"

"He's with the detectives. It's important that he shows an interest in how the investigation progresses," Frank automatically replied.

The nature of his attitude only sought to worsen the sickening pit in Victoria's stomach. It was business as usual. The crime they had committed would have little effect on how Frank slept at night. "How much longer are they going to be there?" Sat on the edge of the bed, Victoria could see the spotlights flashing in every which direction, as the F.B.I. ravaged the once peaceful beach house for further evidence to secure conviction.

"They'll probably be there for the remainder of the night," he predicted. "You'll need to provide your statement in the morning. You should get some rest." As she wandered to the cupola, disobeying his advice to observe the scene below, Frank heavily exhaled and retreated away from the master bedroom. The fragile emotional state she displayed had become a major concern for Frank. Though he made it a point to remain unattached from those who hired him, he worried for her wellbeing, and remained terrified that it would be the one deficit in their plot. If it weren't for the not-so-small fortune the Wall Street tycoon had offered him, he certainly would have walked away by now, if only to save his own skin.

* * *

Discretely, Victoria escaped from Conrad's arms and ensured her husband remained undisturbed, before she wandered out onto the cupola. The sky had become streaked with honey and amber shades of dawn, a cool chill in the air as the night reluctantly slipped away, and Victoria viewed the beach house below. The presence of the authorities remained by the red-tape surrounding David's home but, for all intents and purposes, it had never felt emptier and neither had Victoria. Her eyes lowered to her abdomen; it wasn't the way any expectant mother was supposed to feel. Her emotions were more conflicted than they were for the nine months she had carried Patrick.

"Victoria?" Her husband beckoned her, reluctantly tearing back the sheets from his body and greeting the morning they both dreaded. She had been restless, they both had. Insomnia lingered like an unforgettable foe but his soul had been soothed somewhat, by having her back in his arms again. It had been the first night they had spent together as husband and wife – physically, and emotionally – in three months and Conrad hoped it would be the start of a resolution for the disaster their marriage threatened to become.

His arms curled around her waist and Victoria sharply inhaled, petrified he would somehow become conscious of her condition and her sacrifice would have been an unnecessary one. In spite of the tenderness shown, Victoria had gritted her teeth and forced herself not to shudder at his touch. What they had done left her ridden with guilt but Conrad appeared completely unaffected by the 'necessary' sacrifice of both David and Amanda, and for that, she despised him, almost as much as she despised herself. "We have to give our statements to the authorities." She blurted out, an excuse for conversation and to distance herself from him. "I'm going to take a shower."

She ripped her hand from his and Conrad wistfully watched her shut him out. The day would be difficult, perhaps the most difficult they had ever endured but Conrad would rather gamble an eternity of remorse than the loss of his only child. "Victoria?" He followed her and knocked on the locked door. On the other side of it, Victoria leaned her back against it, shutting her eyes tight, as they watered. "I love you."

The tears streamed relentlessly down her cheeks; he had said those three words so many times throughout their marriage but Victoria had almost refused to believe it. He had said them to her when she relented and agreed to help him mastermind the framing of David, to alleviate the unspoken threat against their son. He had said them to her breathlessly, his body on top of hers, as she sacrificed herself to protect her unborn child that he would soon believe to be his own. After seven years of marriage, Victoria finally believed it.


	15. Charlotte Antoinette Grayson

**May 1994 – New York, New York Presbyterian Hospital**

In the nine months that followed David's arrest, the state clambered to gather the sufficient evidence to convict a national terrorist and the Grayson family prepared to welcome the newest addition.

"Conrad, she's beautiful." Mother and son gazed through the window, into the hospital nursery, where the premature baby lay deathly quiet in the incubator. In his wildest dreams, Conrad couldn't have prepared himself to witness his newborn daughter hooked to an oxygen wire that encouraged her to inhale a regular breath.

"You know, these past few months, she's been the only light at the end of the tunnel?" The cover-up he had designed had endured unpredictable twists and turns that Conrad and Frank had failed to adequately prepare themselves for. The F.B.I. were meticulously careful not to eliminate Conrad as a suspect himself, as many questioned how the operating C.E.O. of a company could have remained blissfully unaware of such dealings from one of its executives. As a result, Grayson Global had suffered substantial losses and the date for trial continued to retreat further into the future, which left Conrad in a hopeless limbo of uncertainty as to whether he would remain a free man. In spite of it all, the expansion of their family had been the driving force that compelled Conrad to continue the fight. "Now, the day she enters the world could be our darkest hour."

Elizabeth's brow lined with concern. It was certainly a far more despondent state of affairs than the day Daniel had entered their lives. Thankfully, her husband had been present for the birth of his second grandchild and she flashed Edward an instructive look to intervene in Conrad's negative spiral. "She's going to be alright, Conrad." His hand confidently steadied Conrad's shoulder, "She's a Grayson."

* * *

"Your wife suffered a condition called pre-eclampsia." The medical term had previously been explained to Conrad but he had long-forgotten what it incorporated. He could only think of Victoria, as she was rushed into surgery, after she suffered severe cramps and failed to detect the baby's movement. The words 'fetal distress' had stunned him into a blind panic, that rendered him unable to comprehend any information thereafter. "It's a condition characterised by high blood pressure, which as we know is often caused by stress." Guilt-ridden, Conrad lowered his head and the doctor flashed an empathetic smile in his direction. "The blood flow transferred to your daughter via the placenta was reduced, which caused a lack of oxygen and nutrients provided to her. That accounts for her weight," the doctor added, fresh out of the hour-long surgery Victoria had endured. "It would also be responsible for any headaches or unusual swelling your wife may have experienced." Conrad nodded his head, as he recalled the multiple migraines Victoria had regularly complained of, which he had simply assumed to be a result of the stress she had been under. "Your wife suffered excess bleeding throughout the procedure but we have managed to stabilise her and she should be rousing from the anaesthetic in the next hour." At that moment, Conrad noted the dried blood splattered onto the pale blue scrubs the doctor had yet to remove and his stomach flip-flopped at the very sight of it. "I do have to advise a restriction on the number of visitors, preferably family only, at this point. Other than that, I have no doubt she'll be back on her feet and released in the next week or so." It was the kind of result they had all prayed for.

The relief gushed out of Conrad, as his father patted him on the back. "What about the baby?" Elizabeth asked, her tone remaining serious, refusing to bolster her hopes until she received some kind of confirmation about the future of her granddaughter.

"As far as we can tell, she's shown every sign that she's able to breathe on her own but, for the time being, we would prefer to keep her in the incubator, for the next 24 hours at least, purely as a precautionary measure against risk of infection." The doctor explained, his tone as positive as expected, and the three family members intermittently glanced through the nursery window at the newborn.

* * *

"Isn't she perfect?" Conrad squeezed Victoria's hand, in a weak attempt to encourage her.

Semi-conscious after her ordeal, Victoria stared through the glass of the incubator at the newborn that wriggled relentlessly against the wires that monitored her. At Conrad's request, the doctors had moved their daughter into the private room Victoria inhabited, rather than transport Victoria by wheelchair to the hospital nursery. "She's so small." The pregnancy had been a difficult one and it showed, in both herself and her child.

"The doctors say that's normal," he dissuaded her concern, reiterating what the doctor had said. "You've both had it rough, you know?" He reached forward to brush the hair from her face and Victoria flinched from the touch. It wasn't the first time she had done so either. The night their daughter had been conceived had been a brief reprieve from the venom they spat at one another but he had been one of the many woes that distressed Victoria during her nine months of pregnancy, in spite of his attempt to be anything but. Instead of react, Conrad skimmed over her emotional distance and squeezed her hand tighter. "How are you feeling?" Though the doctor had insisted Victoria was in almost perfect health, Conrad didn't think she had ever looked quite so vulnerable. Two small tubes hooked over each cheek, supplying ample oxygen, and her skin appeared paler than usual.

"Groggy," Victoria croaked, in confession. "Where's Daniel?"

"Mom and dad have gone to pick him up from school. He'll be here soon," Conrad assured her. "He can't wait to meet her." Given that Daniel had openly expressed his hope for a baby brother, Conrad had been pleasantly surprised to hear how excited Daniel was to meet the newborn.

Victoria struggled to further focus both her attention and her vision, reeling from the powerful after-effects of the emergency caesarean section. Her heart became heavier, in the knowledge that David had lost, not one but, two daughters due to her betrayal. Tears pricked her eyes and she quickly dissolved into tears, her usual strength drained from her. "I'm sorry," she turned away from her husband, barely able to witness his unwarranted pride. No matter what she felt for him – anger, disgust, pure hatred or even pity – it had been hard to deceive him, to allow him to build up such hope for the future, as she carried another man's child.

"You have nothing to be sorry for." Conrad consoled her, sympathetic. "All that matters is that you are alright." His hand soothingly massaged her head, "I don't want you to worry about a thing. These past few months have been hell for all of us, especially you." She didn't have to read between the lines to know what her husband meant. She had been scheduled to provide her testimony in court, the day she had fallen ill. That horror was still one to be inflicted upon her.

"Hi." A paediatric nurse peered through the doorway before cautiously entering the room. She flashed a bright smile at Conrad and Victoria. "How are you feeling?" Victoria offered a weak smile in return, "Well, unfortunately, I do need to whisk your little one away for a quick check-up. Have we decided on a name yet?"

Before her husband could protest, Victoria clarified the only name appropriate for the newborn. "Charlotte." It was a small tribute to David, subtle enough to bypass Conrad's radar.

"Charlotte." The nurse beamed, in repetition.

"Charlotte Antoinette Grayson." A little calmer, Victoria slowed the rapid speed of her words as she pronounced her daughter's full name. In the corner of her eye, she spied Conrad's astonishment at the name she had seemingly pulled from a hat. The pregnancy had been a polar opposite to Daniel's arrival, and the joyous moments like selecting potential names of each gender had been diminished.

"That's beautiful." The nurse politely complimented the name, though Victoria suspected she would have done so whatever her response. "I'll have it noted down on her chart."

"Charlotte?" Conrad repeated, once the nurse had wheeled the newborn from the room.

"You don't approve?" Victoria noted his disappointment.

"No... I didn't mean that, I just..." Unconsciously, Conrad had hoped that, if they ever bore a daughter, she would be named in honour of his mother, the way Daniel had been his father. In light of the traumatic birth Victoria had endured, he didn't have the heart to protest. "It's perfect." A flood of relief washed over Victoria. The nine months of pregnancy had been somewhat like teetering on the edge; David had yet to voice any belief that he fathered her child and the public at large remained unaware of their affair. More importantly, Conrad had yet to question the paternity of her child. That she had been able to name her daughter in David's honour without arousing suspicion meant she was another step closer to being home free.


	16. Post-Partum

**August 1994 – Southampton, Grayson Manor**

"Post-partum depression?"

Conrad braced himself for the inevitable fallout he had anticipated, as his wife visibly imploded. "Victoria, I spoke with Dr Banks and she agrees that your behaviour toward Charlotte is abnormal." His voice sounded so cold, so clinical, most likely a result of the stack of information pamphlets his mother had collected for him, in the hopes he would educate himself on the condition. She had also convinced him to contact the therapist Victoria regularly attended sessions with. Elizabeth, unlike Edward, was very much ahead of her time and believed in all kinds of self-help methods, especially one-on-one therapy.

"Well, perhaps someone should remind Dr Banks of her confidentiality policy," Victoria muttered, in disapproval of her husband's decision to consult with her therapist. Still, it appeared to allude Conrad that she had manipulated Dr Banks into Amanda's hospitalisation.

"Is that all you have to say?" Conrad scowled, confused. She rolled her shoulders, in casual dismissal, and rose from the chair Conrad had insisted she seat herself in for the private discussion. As she wandered from the room, Conrad followed her into the foyer of their home. "You can't avoid the discussion, Victoria. I'm worried about you."

"I'm fine, Conrad. Thank you for your concern," she politely replied.

His mother had pre-warned him that Victoria would initially balk at the confrontation, that she would likely feel ashamed or under attack. His patience remained intact and Conrad climbed the stairs behind his wife, in the direction of the master bedroom. "You know, post-partum depression is not an uncommon condition. One in five mothers –" A mocking laugh echoed within the walls, as Victoria reached the first floor and briefly craned her neck to flash him a look of strained amusement. Conrad paused, mid-stairs, "We can find the treatment you need, whatever works best for you – therapy, medication - and it can be fixed." How heartfelt and sincere her husband had become threatened to crack her steel composure and Victoria continued her previous retreat to the master bedroom. His heart heavy, Conrad collected himself and slowly traced her movement to her treasured cupola. It overlooked David's abandoned beach house and the vast ocean beyond them; the vision of Victoria in her hideout was one Conrad so dearly cherished. His hands brushed each upper-arm, in an attempt to appear less confrontational. Reluctantly, she allowed him to further secure her in his arms, until his chest firmly pressed upon her back. It was the closest they had been, physically, emotionally too, in the months since Charlotte's arrival. "Do you remember the first date we had, after Daniel was born? We saw Elektra at the Lincoln Center. Daniel was almost 5 months old but you were terrified to leave him." He affectionately smiled in reminiscence, how Victoria had discretely slipped from the audience between each act to soothe her concern. "Dad said he had to disconnect the phone because you wouldn't stop calling to check in on him." Shy, she smiled and Conrad squeezed her body further toward him, "Remember the Sunday's I would stay home from work? How he would curl up in between us and we could pretend the rest of the world didn't exist." Internally, Victoria felt her stomach flip-flop. If only she could turn the clock back… "When I think back, those first few months we had with Daniel were probably the happiest we've ever been." Husband and wife drifted down memory lane and Conrad buried his face into the crook of Victoria's neck, as he inhaled her scent. "Daniel had the best of us both, Victoria. Doesn't Charlotte deserve the same?"

Her inner peace broken once more by his accusation, Victoria slinked from her husband's arms. "Of course she does." How she wished she could share the same kind of bond with Charlotte that she had done with Daniel. "But I can't pretend anymore, Conrad." He frowned, his expression one of sympathetic concern. "The world outside continues to exist, with an innocent man in prison for a crime he didn't commit and our children's lives threatened by the monsters responsible."

* * *

Late that afternoon, Victoria pondered back to the earlier conversation shared with him.

"… _your behaviour toward Charlotte is abnormal._ " How accurate he had been in that observation; her behaviour certainly hadn't been normal. Rarely did she find herself alone with the newborn, nor had she physically breastfed Charlotte since release from the hospital. Instead, she had expressed her milk and brushed aside an opportune chance to bond with her child.

The voice of her son broke her concentration, "Hey, mom." Daniel wandered into the room, to find his mother and baby sister alone.

"Where's your father?" Victoria listened for her husband's return, in the hopes he would reassume responsibility for Charlotte's welfare. In addition to his accusation, Conrad had fired the full-time nurse hired to attend Charlotte. It was more than likely his reckless attempt to force some kind of maternal instinct upon her. Little did he realise how dear Charlotte had been to her heart, even before birth. In truth, Conrad had been partly responsible for her emotional distance from Charlotte. If he were to ever to discover her real paternity, he would surely ruin her. She would lose Daniel, in spite of all she had done to keep him safe from harm. To prevent her downfall, she had learned to monitor herself. She would never allow herself to show Charlotte that little more attention, nor favour her in any way over Daniel. The result had been an emotional disconnect from her newborn, one Conrad could only explain with post-partum depression.

"Grandpa called him about work," Daniel replied, unaware he had reiterated an excuse his father had created to explain his absence and prolong the time Victoria remained with Charlotte by herself. To his mother's irritation, he brushed off what little sand remained attached to his clothes and strolled into the kitchen, to retrieve an afternoon snack. "He said he would be home late for dinner."

She watched her son hop onto the kitchen side and rustle inside each cupboard he opened, in search of his favourite munch. "Daniel, would you come here for a moment?" Abandoning his glass of milk and chocolate-chip cookie, Daniel plonked himself on the floor beside his mother, who watched over Charlotte on the baby play-mat Conrad had purchased for her. As Daniel reached forward and tickled Charlotte, it occurred to Victoria how unlike any other child Daniel had become. While other mothers had spoken of the jealousy exuded by first-born children, in the aftermath of the new arrival to the family, Daniel had made no attempt to hide how much he adored Charlotte. Her hand stroked the back of his head and played with his thick, brown hair. "I hope you know how much I love you, baby."

Daniel wrinkled his nose and chuckled at his mother. "I know, mom." His father had pre-warned him of this kind of occurrence. How she may become sentimental or overly-affectionate. The best course of action was to simply return to emotion. It happened to all new mothers, apparently, and his mother was no exception to the rule. In any case, Daniel was relieved to witness his mother happy once more. At just seven, he was far more intuitive than most children.

"Daniel…" Hesitant, Victoria cupped her sons face with one hand and guided his line of vision to her direction. "Do you remember the promise I asked you to make me when your sister was born?" The seriousness of her voice matched the tone of the conversation she referenced.

He dutifully nodded his head, in confirmation. His mother had looked so frail, semi-conscious and attached to various machines in her hospital room but his father had assured him of her health. In a brief moment they were alone, after Daniel had been officially introduced to the newborn, his mother had pulled him close to her and made one request. "To always be nice to her."

"I need you to keep that promise you made me, Daniel." She pleaded with him, in the hopes Daniel would remember their conversation, in the future years ahead of them. "No matter what happens between this family," she decidedly added, and her tone reiterated that she had foreseen the dreaded sequence of events. In her soul, she didn't believe Conrad's scheme to frame David had any merit. At one point or another, one of them would make a simple mistake and the whole façade would blow up, quite literally, in their faces. Another inevitability, was that Charlotte's paternity would be revealed and it would break her heart to witness Daniel's love for his sister falter because of his bloodline.

"I promise I will, mom." Wide-eyed and utterly innocent, he had little idea of the lengths his parents had taken to protect him and his mother prayed he would never find out.


	17. Testimonial

**April 1995 – New York, New York County Courthouse**

"Mrs Grayson?"

In the gallery, Conrad mentally pleaded with his wife to answer the question posed to her by the prosecution. Every second she hesitated planted another seed of doubt in the minds of the jurors. "Mrs Grayson?" Judge Robert Barnes wavered his hand over the gravel placed before him. Eventually, Victoria glanced in his direction, her expression dozy and apologetic. "Please answer the question."

He motioned to the representative for the prosecution, Tom Kingsley, who forced an irritated but diplomatic smile. A guilty verdict was just within reach, if only the witness would engage in co-operation. "I'll repeat the question." All eyes within the room trailed his movement across the courtroom floor. "Mrs Grayson, obviously, you are aware of the rumours that your husband, Conrad Grayson, C.E.O. of Grayson Global, was a co-conspirator, if not the sole perpetrator, behind the downing of flight 197 last summer." Victoria nodded her head, in confirmation of his statement. "In order to authorise the heavy financial transactions necessary to carry out his act of terror, David Clarke would have required full access to the company's assets. So, I ask you... did your husband, in any way, assist him?"

Like each and every other answered she had provided, Victoria refrained from eye contact with David. "No."

"How do you suppose Mr Clarke was able to authorise those financial transactions?"

"A month or two before –" she swallowed the lump in her throat and clarified, "Before the plane went down, David broke into our home."

"Grayson Manor?" Tom confirmed, for the sake of public record, and Victoria nodded. "You discovered Mr Clarke in your home?" Once again, she nodded. To the jurors, the back-and-forth looked impromptu but she had rehearsed her performance time and time again, with Frank's keen eye and direction. "Did you confront him?"

"Yes. I found him in my husband's home office. He had broken into the safe my husband keeps, there were several files all over the floor..." While she recited the official version of events, Victoria dug her fingernails into the skin of her hand, hidden from public view; it was all she could do to remain calm. "I warned him that Conrad would return home any moment. I said I would call the police but he ripped the phone connection from the wall. If my son hadn't been upstairs asleep, I might have fought him off but..." Victoria shook her head, lowering it, ashamed of herself.

Tom pursued her statement, "There is no public record for any intrusion at Grayson Manor within the past 5 years." He feigned confusion, a dramatic tactic for the sake of the jury present. "The man illegally broke into your home. Why didn't you call the police? Did he threaten you?"

"Objection. Counsellor is leading the witness." David's defence attorney made a weak attempt to disregard the testimony Victoria had provided.

"Overruled." Judge Barnes shot down a glimmer of hope for David and Victoria, in support of Tom's pursuit.

The prosecution offered a nod of confidence for Victoria, gesturing that she answer. "He threatened to kill me and my son, if I ever said a word to anyone." Directly in her line of vision, Conrad remained stoic. Of all the witnesses he had paid off, blackmailed for evidence, Victoria was his deepest concern. Guilt had eaten away at her conscience; he was convinced it was why she had failed to bond with Charlotte, why she had become a shadow of the woman he had fallen in love with. Still, her testimony had proven effective. As if under her spell, the jury had lapped up her every word. Without doubt, David Clarke was destined to become the most hated man in America. "If I had known what he had stolen, and why, perhaps all this could have been avoided."

Fear overpowered her and Victoria allowed herself to briefly glance in David's direction. There he sat, defeated. Throughout all the other testimonies – Bill, Conrad, Lydia – he had leapt to his feet, denied their accusations and demanded his innocence. As Tom proudly returned to his desk, and motioned for the defence to cross-examine her, David reached forward and vehemently shook his head. A minor, subdued altercation played out between David and his attorney, before the latter rose to his feet, "No questions, at this time, your honour."

Victoria's brow flickered, in confusion. Judge Barnes showed her a curt smile, "You may step down, Mrs Grayson."

* * *

The drive from the courthouse to their Greenwich estate was a silent one. Though Conrad wanted to applaud her performance, he thought better of it. "Are you alright?" He sombrely asked, as if he didn't know the answer himself. Without response, his wife poured herself a stiff drink from the bottle of Remy Martin provided for those in the passenger seats. He motioned his own for the driver to roll the partition and reached for his wife's hand, "Victoria." Breathlessly, Victoria repelled from his touch and rustled in her purse for the medication she had been prescribed. Before Conrad could ponder aloud how wise it would be mix her medication with alcohol, Victoria washed her second Xanax of the day away with her drink and poured herself another. "Victoria –"

"What?" She snapped, resentful.

Her scowl dared him to challenge her, to be the final nail in the coffin. She resembled that of a madwoman. Her eyes were wild and a few strands of hair had fallen out of place, no doubt a result of their rather vigorous attempt to evade the army of reporters, who clamoured for a statement as they departed court. "You did well." He steadily consoled her. It was a consolation Victoria neither appreciated, nor reciprocated.

* * *

" _All 246 passengers died on impact; the youngest victim just 2 months old."_

Images of the wreckage flashed upon the screen, as volunteers scoured the area for remnants of the victims aboard. The faces of the victims haunted her, in sleep, more than likely in death, too. She wondered, if she would ever escape, the screen switched to black and the slam of the television remote to the wooden table startled Victoria. Disappointment evident in his expression, Conrad buried his head in his hands and wiped the tiredness from his eyes. It wasn't the first time he had stumbled upon this kind of moment; his wife awake at a Godforsaken hour and another uneducated documentary played on repeat. "It's almost 2am."

Like a scolded child, Victoria stumbled over her pitiful defence. "Charlotte woke up." Truthfully, their daughter had been adapted to her routine for months and rarely woke before 6am. It was an obvious lie and Conrad visually expressed his scepticism at her cover. "Conrad, I'm sorry."

Red-eyes of exhaustion watered, her desperation evident, and he shook his head. "Victoria, this has to stop." He installed himself on the sofa beside her, "You're making yourself ill." Doctors had prescribed Valium for her insomnia, Xanax for her anxiety and panic attacks, and Zoloft for her depression, which was believed to have been caused by post-traumatic stress disorder, a result of the trial. To Conrad's bewilderment, none of it seemed to soothe her inner turmoil. She hadn't eaten or slept properly in weeks, months almost. Worse still, he was helpless to it all. "What happened –" he stopped himself. His wife had torn herself apart over the horrific tragedy but Conrad had done all he could not to think of it. "None of it was your fault, Victoria." Her only crime had been one of passion, and it paled in comparison to his wickedness. After all, had it not been for his selfishness, the Initiative would have failed to finance the terrorist attack. "You are as much a victim as the lives lost aboard that plane."

The sickness in her stomach returned and Victoria rejected her husband's pitiful attempt to comfort her, "Conrad, please."

The silent atmosphere remained tense as ever, until Conrad's voice cut the air. "Anyway, within the month, this will all be over." His words sounded more than just an distant, empty promise and Victoria looked to him for confirmation. "I spoke with Tom before we left the courthouse today. A date has been set for the verdict; June 9th." Less than three weeks away, their lives would return to normal. Not that either of them could recall how normal felt.

Her lack of response prompted Conrad to rise and retreat to the master bedroom. He had learnt, in recent months, that their relationship had transformed, and not for the better. Previously, whatever battle they waged upon one another could always be healed by sex. Physical intimacy had been their first bond but, save the brief reprieve of Charlotte's conception, Victoria had recoiled from his mere touch. Left alone to her demons, Victoria flashed back to her moment on the witness stand, and the look of betrayal David held. No act of kindness could rectify her cruelty, the horror she had inflicted upon him, but there was one small, final comfort she could provide him; the opportunity to meet his child, if only a fleeting glimpse from ten feet away, inside a courtroom that would declare David Clarke one of the world's most brutal terrorists.


	18. Blast From the Past

**December 1997 – New York, Metropolitan Correctional Center**

"Hello, Steph."

Suddenly, it all became clear. Why the patrol vehicle had stopped her, why the officer had insisted upon a breathalyzer test and why any protests had fallen on deaf ears. As always, Conrad Grayson was the root cause of any problem she encountered. "Conrad," she acknowledged, rather than greeted him. "I should have known."

Another man appeared and flashed a badge that declared him a homeland security agent, which the attending officer all but bowed to, as he was ushered from the room, to allow her and Conrad a private moment. Former husband and wife stared at one another in utter silence. Finally, he inched forward and rested his hands on the back of the chair opposite her. "It's been a long time." Boy, had it. Gone was the hysterical wreck, incoherent and drastically dishevelled, that he had divorced mere weeks before remarrying. The woman before him was on the path to becoming the best possible version of herself.

"What do you want, Conrad?" She was sober enough to realise that her arrest hadn't been by pure coincidence or major fault on her part. It was a set-up, and she could guess what for.

Conrad scraped the chair backward and positioned himself across the table from her. "You look good, Steph." It was a compliment but Stevie was wary of its intent. She looked good, she didn't feel it. Her sobriety had taken a nose-dive in recent months. The odd drink every now and then had proven to be more difficult to handle than she thought. Those around her hadn't noticed but, why would they? She had learnt to portray the role of functioning alcoholic well. "How long have we been divorced?" Wary of the direction the conversation aimed for, she frowned and Conrad probed further. "How long has it been? Ten, eleven years?" It had been eleven years, and five months, to be exact. In that period, Conrad had all but erased the memory of her. Whenever anyone anticipated an official introduction to the Mrs Conrad Grayson, they were forewarned of the woman rumoured to have hair as black as her heart and soul, not Steph.

"What's your point?" Stevie snapped, impatient.

"My point is that, in spite of the fact that you and I have long been separated from one another, your continuing to use the Grayson name means you are equally as responsible for its reputation." Though she had acquired next to nothing in the financial divorce settlement, she had retained the right to the name Grayson. It remained to be a questionable decision, on his behalf. "As a result, I'm sure someone of your calibre would understand how it might look, if you were to legally represent David Clarke in appeal of his conviction." When he received word that 'Ms. Grayson' had been a recent visitor of the accused, Conrad's heart had sunk to a new depth but Victoria's vehement denial and Frank's decision to dig a little deeper revealed the true culprit.

"That's what this is about? David Clarke?" Stevie feigned confusion but her suspicion deepened further. Like any American citizen, she had followed David's trial but, even upon conviction, she doubted his guilt. Perhaps, it sounded egotistical but Stevie liked to believe she could read others well, and something about David Clarke had drawn her in. The fact that Conrad and Victoria were implemented in the trial only peaked her interest. The more she studied the trial, the more she examined the evidence released to the general public, the more sceptical Stevie became. The supposedly solid testimonies that were provided by Grayson Global employees were convenient, at best. Any one of them could have been paid off for their show of solidarity or silenced by other means. The only roadblock was that Stevie had no proof to support her belief. Had she voiced her opinion, she would have been as ignored and berated as those that wallowed in conspiracy theories surrounding the trial. That was until she anonymously received a copy of a note originally delivered to Conrad. Though she remained clueless as to who the writer had been, it was obvious what, or whom, the initials 'D.C.' stood for.

"This isn't a game, Steph." The severity of his tone included a warning but Stevie appeared unmoved. "The man is a national terrorist. He attempted to frame me for mass murder." Undoubtedly, she had a vested interest in the trial. Perhaps, she viewed it as an opportunity to attack him for the raw deal she received in the settlement.

"I know what he's been accused of," she replied, indignant.

"Convicted of," Conrad corrected her. He had hoped that, once David had been convicted, the conspiracy that surrounded the trial would have died down and been just another scandal of its day but activists and support groups continued to shine a spotlight on them. "You've done well for yourself, Steph. Why risk everything you've accomplished for that man?" His eyes searched hers, open and honest, as they had once been, "You can't honestly believe that I'm the guilty party?" He hoped that somewhere, in the deepest part of her soul, she could remember the bright-eyed Harvard student she had fallen hopelessly in love with.

For a brief moment, Stevie second-guessed herself. "I believe we all make mistakes." She swallowed the lump in her throat, "I believe that there are times when a situation spirals out of her control and we scramble to protect ourselves and the ones we hold dear to our heart." The accuracy of her evaluation unnerved Conrad but he remained expressionless and silent, careful not to reveal too much of himself. "Most of all, I believe David Clarke to be an innocent man."

Her head rose and her stern expression warned Conrad that he would be unable to reason with her. "Well..." The defeat was undeniable and Conrad remained baffled as to why women flocked to protect a man like David, who was evidently incapable of protecting himself from an external threat.

"But, I suspect, you already knew that." She called his bluff, as he rose from his chair to depart. Caught in the act, so to speak, Conrad remained still and Stevie shrugged her shoulders. "Why else would you have me arrested?" If she had any subconscious doubts of David's claim he was innocent, they were quashed by the set-up Conrad had constructed to have her arrested. She may have struggled to remain sober and even allowed herself the odd drink, unknown to her AA counsellor, but she had never driven drunk. "What better way to have a recovering alcoholic discredited from her profession than a false D.U.I. charge?"

The animosity of their divorce had remained, if not intensified, and Conrad snorted. "You know the old saying, my dear, a leopard doesn't change its spots?" Her involvement in David's case may have rattled Victoria but Conrad quickly realised that extraction of his ex-wife would not be difficult, given her publicised history with alcohol.

"I haven't touched a drop my blood alcohol level will prove as much," Stevie countered his attack, with as much conviction as she could muster.

A deep-throated chuckle echoed the interrogation room and Conrad wandered to the door. "It's heart-warming to see such faith in the legal system, especially from someone who must see such injustice on a daily basis." A look of realisation befell her features and Conrad flashed her a pitiful look; she should have known, by now, better than to try and undermine him. "Goodbye, Steph."


	19. The Day America Stood Still

**September 2001 – Southampton,** **Grayson Manor**

" _None of us will ever for_ _get this day. Yet, we go forward to defend freedom, and all that is good and just in our world._ _Thank you._ _Goodnight, and God bless America."_

Stricken to their core, the Grayson family embraced one another, as they watched their President conclude his live speech, in the wake of what had been the nation's greatest tragedy. The world reeled from the heinous terrorist attack of 9/11, the day America had stood still and watched the twin towers fall. The screen switched from the presidential Whitehouse and returned to the presenter, stationed at the NBC news desk. Conrad muted the television, and the silence within the manor deafened them all. Cushioned between her father and brother, Charlotte had little comprehension of the day she had endured. Her father squeezed his arm around her shoulder a little tighter, "Charlotte, it's time for bed."

"Yes, daddy." Subdued by what she had witnessed, the seven year old child climbed from his arms and wandered to her bedroom. The severity of what had happened had yet to be explained to her, how many lives had been lost and why she had been dismissed from school early.

"Daniel?" Conrad addressed his son, who hadn't moved a muscle throughout the entire report.

"Sweetheart, are you alright?" His mother softly rubbed his arm, as if to retrieve him from whatever darkness he had spiralled into. His breaths were shallow, his heart rate slowed, like an animal stunned, frozen with fear. If only, it had been any other day... As the majority of children prepared for their second week back at school, after the summer break, Daniel's year had been authorised career week. Each student had been instructed to secure themselves a position in any line of work and, naturally, Daniel had chosen Grayson Global. Just a few miles away, Daniel had witnessed the first plane hit the North Tower.

Hours later, a dazed expression still adorned his features. "Son?" Conrad reached forward and steadied one hand upon Daniel's shoulder. What father and son had witnessed had united them in terror. For nearly twenty minutes, Conrad, Daniel and the various employees at Grayson Global had held vigil, as spray of flames burst from the windows, followed by the relentless fumes of smoke. It was only when another struck the South Tower that Conrad grasped the severity of the situation. Hesitation no option, Conrad secured Daniel to Lydia's protection and order an immediate evacuation. He had been the last to abandon the offices, no care for whether the four walls would remain intact. Once reunited with Daniel, Conrad had his driver escape the chaos from the city and to the safety of their Hampton's retreat. Neither had spoken of the devastation they had fled, neither had the words.

Nauseated, Daniel leapt to his feet and bolted from the room. "Daniel," his mother called after him, her voice a mere scream in the wind.

"Leave him," Conrad advised her, before she could chase after their son. At fourteen years old, Daniel didn't have the luxury of ignorance, like his sister. He understood the injustice of what had happened, that the repercussions would be felt for years to come. "He needs to be by himself." Conrad explained, as he poured two generous glasses of scotch, one for himself and one for Victoria.

"Thank you," she murmured. Not even the slow burn of the amber liquid could erase her heartache, nor the remnants of her earlier panic. While Conrad made his full-time return to work, and their children entered into another school year, Victoria had busied herself, as she prepared to shut down Grayson Manor for the winter. As much as she adored the property, their true home was in Greenwich and, by September of each year, it was there that they hibernated, and prepared for the upcoming holidays. When the first report of a freak plane crash flashed upon the screen, she had refrained from much interest. For Victoria, it all hit a little too close to home. As she watched her husband seek solace in another drink, she could only assume it did for him, too. Only once the presenter mentioned the 'devastation at the World Trade Center' did she engage with the live news report. Immediately, the pit of her stomach churned and she raced to ensure the safety of her husband and son. After several unanswered calls transferred to voicemail, Conrad assured her of Daniel's safety and their imminent return to Grayson Manor. Shortly after, Charlotte was released from her private school but, in those few minutes of uncertainty, Victoria had wondered whether fate had conjured another sick joke, whether karma had one final blow to deliver. She shivered inside, with the very possibility that her son could have been another victim of the terrorist attack, another name on the list.

Conrad savoured a third, and final, drink. "I think we could all do with some rest." No doubt, the whole day had whisked them both back to yesteryear. She swiftly consumed her drink, in full agreement. She had no care to dredge up old memories either. After all, the catastrophe wasn't about them. 9/11 would surely prove to be deadliest attack on American soil, if not the worst terrorist attack in world history. The downing of flight 197 was child's play, in comparison.

* * *

His feet relentlessly pounded the concrete, one after the other, until the thump of his heartbeat became louder than the hollow screams in his head. From the private drive that led to Grayson Manor, he overlooked the section of beach his family owned and noticed the familiar figure raise one hand in the air.

"Daniel?" His father beckoned him from the shoreline, and Daniel answered his call by a slow approach across the sand.

"Dad," he respectfully removed the headphones connected to the iPod classic his father had purchased for his birthday earlier that summer, ahead of the products official release to the public. He tucked the device into the pocket of his shorts and wiped the sweat from forehead. The sun had slowly risen upon the horizon and heralded the dawn Daniel had endured sleepless hours in anticipation of.

A cup of coffee in one hand, to remedy the effects of his restless slumber, Conrad hadn't even bothered to comb his hair. Determined not to wake his wife at such an early hour, he had snuck from the bedroom, his shirt open at the collar. Due to the catastrophic debris, Wall Street would undoubtedly be shut down for the remaining week and Conrad was certain his employees would appreciate the time to themselves, too. "How did you sleep?" He surveyed his son with obvious concern. Nonchalant, Daniel shrugged his shoulders and avoided the question. "I know what happened yesterday must have scared you, Daniel."

Daniel suddenly burst open with emotion, "It didn't scare me, dad. It made me angry." His father nodded, in acceptance. Once the initial shock of the attacks had passed, anger was the only real emotion that united the citizens of New York. With every hour that passed, the body count increased, and Daniel was left to answer the unanswerable question; why him, or more appropriately, why not him? "The people on those planes didn't deserve to die. The people in those towers didn't either. We were stood in a building, just miles away. So, why not us?" He had little knowledge of political agenda and what the ramifications of the day were in that sense but Daniel had to find some kind of rationalisation for the intended mass murder.

"Daniel, I don't have the answer you're looking for." Conrad confessed. He wasn't sure if it had been pure luck – coincidence, destiny, whatever – that he and his son had been spared, he wasn't even sure he cared. "All I know is the gratitude in my heart that we survived." Daniel made his dissatisfaction at his father's copout known and Conrad cupped the back of his neck with one hand, "Think of your mother. Think of Charlotte... how their lives would have been turned upside down, if either one of us had come to harm." It pained him just to think about it. Still, Daniel appeared preoccupied by what haunted him. "Daniel," his father's voice commanded him to pay attention. Like his mother, Daniel often carried the weight of the world upon his shoulders and, as with Victoria, Conrad would do everything in his power to ensure it would not be his downfall.

"How could they do it, dad?" Daniel shook his head, repulsed. "How could anyone be responsible for something like that?"

In that moment, Conrad felt fear surpass any other emotion. If Daniel were to ever learn what he had been capable of, the lines he had crossed to protect him... he didn't dare imagine how his son would react. And, so, he lied, "I don't know, Daniel. I don't know."


	20. RIP David Clarke

**April 2002 –** **Greenwich, The Grayson Estate**

Freedom. As Conrad Grayson inhaled the crisp, spring air, freedom was what he felt. For the first time, in almost a decade, in fact.

 **David Clarke was dead.** The hell they had all endured was finally over. In the months after David's arrest, in the years after his conviction, Conrad had patiently waited for the other shoe to drop. Except, it never did. Those involved had remained loyal, the ones blackmailed into loyalty had remained silent, and the American public had slowly started to restore its faith in Grayson Global. Just as Conrad started to believe in his freedom, Gordon Murphy reappeared, like a foul smell he would never rid himself of. Inevitably, he only had bad news to deliver.

" _If Halstead exposes you, he exposes my employers. I hope you can appreciate why it would be best, for all involved, that we handle the matter discretely."_ The Initiative's representative made no attempt to colour his threat. To Murphy's irritation, Conrad had insisted Roger Halstead remain unharmed. The death of Grayson Global's finest, senior accountant would only raise suspicion, especially if he had shared what little evidence he had stumbled upon. Instead, they needed to address the root cause of the problem; David Clarke. For whatever reason, Conrad's co-conspirators had lined up to betray him, in a last-ditch attempt to rescue David from the eternal condemnation he had been damned to. Why, Conrad would never understand. There was something about the man that rendered others desperate to protect him from harm, even if it opposed the laws of self-preservation. What Conrad did understand, however, was that no one would be quite so committed to a dead man. It was in that moment, that Conrad decided to honour the target he had placed on David Clarke's back, all those years beforehand.

"Hey, kids." As advised, Conrad continued the day like any other. He remained at the office until 5pm and he returned home to his family at their Greenwich estate. Normality was the best policy, so Conrad had overlooked the conversations between his employees that were silenced by his entrance into a room, and he avoided the barricade of reporters, who brawled between themselves for an official statement.

"Hi, daddy." Charlotte welcomed her father home from work, briefly allowing her attention to divert from latest episode of Gilmore Girls. At just 7 years old, her mother considered the television series too mature for her but Charlotte had a rebellious heart.

Conrad wandered into the kitchen, where his pubescent son consumed the contents of a milk carton, the way only a boy his age would. "Daniel, where's your mother?"

"She's upstairs in bed. She doesn't feel well." Daniel reported his mother's condition, who had explained her solitary confinement with a migraine. It was a weak alibi, one Conrad didn't buy into for a second. He didn't doubt his wife wasn't well, but her sickness was entirely emotional. "We had dinner sent to her room but –" Daniel motioned to the untouched bowl of chicken soup and fresh seeded roll.

Conrad's forehead wrinkled, with a deeply-lined frown. For either one of his children, the day was an unremarkable one. The name David Clarke had seldom been mentioned under the Grayson roof. Inevitably, any time other children had tossed his name at Daniel and Charlotte in the playground, he and Victoria had been forced to intervene; there had been one unfortunate incident, in particular, in which Daniel had returned home with a bloody nose. The other child had dared to accuse Conrad of conspiracy, and Daniel had leapt to defend his father's honour. Not surprisingly, the other child's parents had been the kind of conspiracy theorists that refused to let David Clarke's name disappear. But, all in all, David Clarke had never been more than the madman next door. His name was synonymous with hatred, an infamous criminal, who their parents had the misfortune to be associated with. Little had they known how Conrad had framed David, or the affair Victoria had embarked on with him. "Well, I should probably look in on her."

Before his father could stray from earshot, Daniel summoned the bravery to speak, "I heard about David Clarke in school today." Another student had announced that the inmate had died from injuries sustained during a prison riot.

The seriousness in Daniel's expression reflected in his father's eyes and Conrad heavily exhaled. He nodded his head, in confirmation of the rumour that had later been confirmed in a news report, "Yes, Daniel. David Clarke is dead." A glimmer of what Daniel perceived to be sadness illustrated the confirmation and Daniel appeared visibly relieved.

"Good." Daniel simply remarked. "He deserved to die for what he did."

Conrad lowered his head. He wondered if Daniel would have said the same about him, had he known the truth. "Look after your sister, Daniel. I'll check on your mother." Upon his advance to the master bedroom, Conrad paused at the recent family portrait, displayed in the foyer. His parents sat hand-in-hand, either one of his children balanced each side of them, him stood behind his father proudly, one arm curled around Victoria's waist. He had done it all for her. The threat of exposure may have been the final, deciding factor but David's death had been as much for her sake as his. Whether he cared to accept it or not, Victoria had fallen in love with David Clarke in the summer of '93, and she had tortured herself ever since. It was Conrad's deepest wish that David's death allowed their wounds to finally heal, and be no more than a distant, unfortunate scar from their past.

* * *

The heat of her husband's body beneath the sheets inflamed her skin and the wind howled, but neither were responsible for Victoria's insomnia. All she could think of was David. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him; the ecstasy in the curl of his lip, as they made love for the last time, the hopelessness in his eyes when he was convicted. He had haunted her in life but would do, even more so, in death too. In that, she envied David. Death would be a welcome distraction from the abhorrence she felt, whenever she dared to examine her reflection in the mirror.

Before she rose from the bed, she slowly craned her neck and studied the rise and fall of her husband's shoulder. The heaviness of his breath indicated a deep unconsciousness. "Conrad?" Certain her inaudible whisper failed to rouse him, she slithered from underneath the sheets and snuck out the bedroom. She could hardly bear to be in the same room as him, let alone share his bed. Had it not been for them, David would be alive and well.

The soles of her feet brushed lightly against the wooden floorboards and Victoria found herself at one specific door. A pink, heart-shaped plaque noted the name of the rooms occupant and Victoria cautiously opened the door. A ray of illumination burst into the darkened room and revealed the small brunette, her body exposed to the air. As she rewrapped the sheets over the small child, Victoria softly smiled; Charlotte had always been a restless sleeper. She had often found her daughter in various questionable positions, her bedsheets recklessly discarded. Her hand smoothed over Charlotte's waist and played with her hair, which trailed beyond her shoulder. She possessed such a peaceful smile, blissfully unaware of the day's importance. Little did she know she had lost her father, or any opportunity to discover her bloodline. In spite of it all, Victoria had always believed she would eventually confess the truth. At least, that's what she liked to tell herself. That, someway, somehow, she would absolve herself of her sins and, finally, be liberated. Whether it be on her deathbed, and Charlotte a woman with a family of her own, she would vindicate David to the only person whose opinion really mattered.

"Mommy?" The warmth of her mother's touch had disturbed her, and Charlotte momentarily awoke from her slumber.

"Go back to sleep, my darling." Victoria chided, her tone hushed. Half-asleep, Charlotte obediently followed her mother's order. Alone to her thoughts, Victoria perceived all the ways in which Charlotte resembled her father, so much so that it ached to look at her. Of course, many had commented on the striking similarity between mother and daughter but Charlotte always had something _more_. Her hair a little lighter, her eyes a little wider and her smile a little brighter. It was her father's influence and Victoria saw it become more distinct, with every day that passed. Thankfully, the likeness was one Conrad remained blind to. In even the most heated battles, her husband had never once questioned Charlotte's paternity. Perhaps, the possibility simply never dawned on him. After all, her genes appeared to be far more dominant; Daniel was proof of that. Whatever the reason for Conrad's oblivion, Victoria could only be forever thankful. "Ssshh, baby," she whispered, as she climbed into the bed and Charlotte threatened to stir. The clock on the bedside table read 1:43am; just over three hours before her husband would reawaken for another day at Grayson Global.

Her arms enveloped the child's body, and she nestled her head into the sweet smell of Charlotte's hair. She wondered how such simplicity could be the only real source of comfort to ease her pain. For the first time since she had learned of David's death, Victoria allowed herself to cry.


	21. Goodbye Grandma Grayson

**January 2005 – Greenwich, The Grayson Estate**

Among the hundreds of mourners that flooded her home, Victoria failed to find one single family member. By the bar, her father-in-law reminisced upon his marriage but neither Conrad, nor her children, were anywhere in sight. She spied the portrait of Elizabeth that hung in the foyer of her home and realised that her mother-in-law's death left her to become the Grayson matriarch. It was a burden Victoria no longer desired.

Excusing herself from the guests that lingered in various areas of her home, Victoria ascended the stairs that reached the first floor of bedrooms. "Conrad?" The background noise of an automated audience laugh attracted her attention and she wandered toward her daughter's bedroom, where she discovered Daniel and Charlotte.

"Hey, mom." Daniel raised his hand in acknowledgement, as his mother peered into the room. Protectively curled in his arms, Charlotte's head rested upon his chest and a F.R.I.E.N.D.S. repeat episode played on the television.

"Have either of you seen your father?" Their mother asked, her voice hushed.

Daniel shook his head, concern evident in his furrowed brow, "Isn't he downstairs?" His mother shook her head and Daniel felt a mild sense of relief. At any other time, his parents would have been at odds with one another; it felt as if they had been for most of his childhood, but his grandmother's death had taken its toll on all of them. Thankfully, his mother had made her best effort to be a source of support to his father. "Do you want me to help you find him?" As Daniel prepared to embrace adulthood in a few months, he pondered that, one day, he would be forced to bury his mother and the thought provoked great distress. He doubted that kind of pain would be any easier to tolerate with age either.

Both children looked toward their mother and Victoria curled her lips into a heart-warming smile. The day had been difficult for both Daniel and Charlotte, who had been unable to disguise her horror at the open-casket funeral. As beautiful as Elizabeth appeared, she was equally as haunting and Victoria had held the eleven year old until the service concluded. "No," Victoria shook her head, "You stay here with your sister."

Shutting the door to ensure privacy for her children, Victoria swept between the empty rooms and retreated back downstairs, where Edward beckoned her, "Victoria?" He excused himself from the circle that had gathered around him, fascinated and longing to hear more of his memories of Elizabeth. "Where's Conrad?"

Regretfully, Victoria clasped her hands together. "He needed some time to himself." In an attempt to distract him from his son's noticeable absence, Victoria placed a hand on his arm, "How are you holding up?"

"Well enough," Edward admitted, and Victoria had little doubt her father-in-law would survive the loss. He was a tough soul, one of the few men she had ever respected and relied upon. "You know, I can't help thinking how much Lizzie would have loved all of this." Hundreds had gathered at Elizabeth's funeral, a show of respect and an appreciation for the life that had touched so many, and Edward had been heart-warmed to discover that his wife had such a profound effect on even those that knew her briefly. "Losing someone you love so suddenly can bring so much into perspective, too." The elderly man wisely pointed out, as Victoria linked her arm into his and they wandered through the home, its walls adorning many pictures of the deceased. "There were so many times I disappointed her." Like Conrad, fidelity was not Edward's strong point. "But, no matter what I did, she always found it in her heart to forgive me and we loved each other for over fifty years." It was quite the accomplishment. "That's the kind of life Lizzie always dreamed for Conrad," Edward pursued the moral of the story that Victoria had learnt to anticipate from his snippets of advice. "I wanted him to inherit the company and continue the legacy but Lizzie always wanted him to be happy, to grow to be an older man than I am today with a good woman by his side. There's no better woman than you, Victoria." Her body naturally tensed; too much had come to pass between them for their happy-ever-after to suddenly reappear. They tolerated one another, that tolerance had become much easier to bare since David's death, but their relationship had gone far beyond breaking point. Her father-in-law squeezed her arm, "It was her dying wish to have the two of you grow old together."

"Edward," Victoria scowled. She resented the emotional extortion, preying upon her fondness for a woman who had been a better mother to her than her own.

Defensively, Edward raised his hands and relented in his meddling attempt. "This marriage has survived far worse than most," he reminded her, ironically not entirely aware of just how much Conrad and Victoria had endured at one another's side. "My girl always believed in the two of you," he pointed out, motioning to the portrait of his wife and Victoria affectionately admired her beaming grin, wondering if, perhaps, her mother-in-law had more faith in her than she possessed herself.

* * *

The tie around his neck loosened, the buttons of shirt unlocked, Conrad staggered home in the dead of night. The memorial had been unbearable and the sympathy he received from well-intentioned mourners had suffocated him. Burying his mother had left him with a heavy heart, not even the assurance that she had lived a full life could have consoled him.

Quietly, he trudged to the master bedroom, where he discovered Victoria propped upright against the headboard, her eyes drooping shut, and the book on her lap forced open by her hand. It had been years since she had purposely waited up for him. She roused from her slumber, "Conrad." His eyes were bloodshot, his appearance understandably dishevelled and Victoria discarded her book onto the nightstand. "Where were you?" The stench of Chanel perfume mixed with alcohol overpowered the room but Victoria dismissed it. Their marriage had hardly been a traditional one and Conrad's lack of loyalty to her seemed such a trivial issue in the wake of Elizabeth's death.

"I needed some time to think," Conrad avoided the question, carelessly slinging his jacket onto a nearby chair and collapsing onto the edge of his side of the bed. His affair with Lydia had been a hot and cold commitment for two years but Conrad relied upon her as his only solace in times of crisis. "Did dad leave already?"

She nodded her head, "He decided to stay in the city until the reading of the will next week."

Conrad removed the tie from his neck and played with the material. "Thank you for arranging the funeral, it was a beautiful service." He couldn't fault her for her behaviour, she had shown his mother the greatest of respect.

"I loved your mother." The diagnosis of lung cancer had been a shock to them all. Elizabeth had always been the epitome of health, she had never smoked and rarely drank alcohol. The progression of the disease, in spite of the aggressive treatments she underwent, had been a bigger shock. Barely four months after diagnosis, Elizabeth had peacefully passed away in her sleep, mere days after her last Christmas, but her warmth and love had been present to the bitter end. "I'll miss her."

"Thank you," Conrad acknowledged her words, as if she were a mere family acquaintance, but their relationship had reached the point that she may as well have been. His head bowed, in an attempt to hide the tears that had overflowed his cheeks and he sniffed away the rest.

Hesitant, Victoria shuffled across the bed and curled one hand around the back of his neck, gently massaging it. He relaxed into her touch, transported back to yesteryear, when his marriage hadn't been in such shambles and his mother had always been on hand with the right advice to sway Victoria back to him. "Conrad?" At her call, her husband angled his body to face her and Victoria brushed away the tears from his cheek. Grateful for the consolation she brought, Conrad eased his body onto the bed and Victoria curled into his open arms. It wasn't much, but it was a start.


	22. Prelude to Thanksgiving

**October 2006 – Greenwich, The Grayson Estate**

"It's not fair!"

The slam of the door and screech of his daughter's voice welcomed Conrad home to the madness. His wife descended the stairs and Conrad raised his eyebrow, silently requesting an explanation. "Don't," she warned, her temper already flared by the argument against their pre-teen daughter.

As she swept into the living room, Conrad removed his coat and loudly conversed the kind of greeting any average housewife would have showered their husband with. "Welcome home, dear. How was your day? Let me take your coat," he muttered underneath his breath, as one of the housekeepers appeared and politely received his coat and briefcase. Composing himself, Conrad followed Victoria's path and accepted the drink she had already poured for him, "Thank you." Once she had appeared to calm down, Conrad pursued an explanation for the previous scene. "Would you care to discuss what I just walked in on?" It wasn't the first time he had encountered an explosion of the tempestuous relationship mother and daughter shared.

"Daddy?" The angelic voice of their daughter interrupted any intention Victoria had of replying, and Conrad opened his arms into which she jumped. "Daddy, can I go skiing in the alps with Jill and Becca? Becca's parents have a chalet there and she invited me to go with her." Her brown eyes were wide and pleading, as she latched her arms around her father's waist and looked up at him, knowing how to sway him.

"Charlotte, you are not spending thanksgiving in Switzerland. That's final." Her mother barked, furious that her daughter had attempted to challenge her authority, after she had specifically rejected the request.

"Daddy?" Charlotte whined, in the hopes his verdict would oppose her mothers.

"Well, sweetheart, if your mother wants you here for thanksgiving..." Conrad uneasily supported Victoria, though he could think of no particular reason why Victoria had denied the invitation. His daughter wore a disgruntled expression and Conrad lowered himself to her height, whispering in her ear, "Would you leave me and your mother alone for a moment, please, Charlotte?" He winked, a secret sign of encouragement and Charlotte gleefully skipped from the room. If her father weaved his considerable power of persuasion, her mother was certain to change her mind. Once she had left earshot, Conrad looked toward Victoria for further sense of the situation. "Why shouldn't she go?"

"Because it's thanksgiving," Victoria chided her husband, as if the answer were obvious to all.

Somewhat perplexed, Conrad frowned, "I see." If his memory served him correctly, Daniel had been permitted to celebrate the national holiday with friends in the years prior. In his heart, Conrad sensed a much deeper truth. For whatever reason, the particular time of year had always sparked a negative reaction from Victoria. A few weeks each year, from late October until thanksgiving, his wife seemed more haunted than usual. Her temperament became unpredictable and the entire family were forced to walk on the eggshells around her.

"I've already arranged it with the staff at Grayson Manor and Daniel will be home especially," Victoria continued to pluck whatever excuse from thin air would be feasible enough for her husband to accept. "It's his first semester at Harvard and he's barely seen Charlotte since he moved on campus."

"Daniel's a few hours away, he can see Charlotte whenever he pleases," her husband refuted the claim. It was plausible but Conrad refused to believe the root of the problem to be so trivial. "Come on, Victoria, you know how much Charlotte loves Europe." He poured himself another drink, blasé about the matter at hand. "It isn't the end of the world if she misses one family dinner."

Disheartened, and pressurised, Victoria flashed her husband a sour look. "Why do you do that? Why must you always make me the villain?"

"Victoria –"

The remorse in his tone was exactly what she had hoped for. "Thanksgiving is the time of year that family should celebrate together. I want Charlotte to be by our sides at Grayson Manor. I don't think that's an unreasonable request."

His eyes opened to her blatant manipulation and Conrad started to lose patience with her. "Well, I don't think Charlotte asking to be with her friends is an unreasonable request either." It had started to occur to him how Victoria applied one set of rules to Daniel, and another to Charlotte. In fact, no matter how well she succeeded in school, or how hard she attempted to impress her mother, Victoria brazenly favoured their eldest child. "So, unless you have a valid argument, as to why Charlotte shouldn't be allowed to go, I am more than happy to let her." Infuriated, Victoria felt her eyes threaten to water and Conrad shook his head, "And don't even think about turning on the water works! Those crocodile tears may have worked when you were a child, Victoria, but they won't work on me, now." After two decades of holy matrimony, Conrad had finally become wise to her manipulation and why he found it difficult to deny her.

The mention of her childhood was all that was necessary for the overflow of emotion that followed. She stormed from the room, utterly unaware that she flew past Charlotte, who had eavesdropped upon the entire conversation. The brunette wandered into her father's line of vision, her disappointment clear. "Guess this means I'm still not allowed to go," she inferred. After all, her father rarely overruled her mother's final word.

"Why don't you help Mrs Thomas set the table for dinner?" Conrad attempted to distract her and followed Victoria's trail to their bedroom. He closed the door, for the walls had eyes and ears in their family home. His voice was lowered, his tone calmer and composed, "What's this really about?" She pursed her lips and did her best to portray naiveté but Conrad didn't fall for the act. "This is more than Charlotte and Daniel, it runs deeper. I want to know why this is so important to you."

On occasion, her husband put forth the opportunity for Victoria reveal a little more of herself. Each and every time he did, she wondered whether she could entrust such a private truth to a man she had once fiercely reviled. She had exposed herself to David, he knew it all; the murder her mother had committed, the psychiatric hold she had been placed under, the sexual abuse she had endured and Patrick. Even after all the years they had stuck beside one another, Victoria still remained uncertain as to whether Conrad deserved to be privy to the secrets she harboured. "It's my mother." She murmured, in vague confession of what troubled her. " _I'm_ my mother." Sometimes, in the darkest corner of her mind, Victoria wondered if she was worse than Marion. The very acts she detested her mother for, she had executed herself; she had married for money, she had all but murdered David and, worst of all, she had abandoned her child, not once but twice. Her first-born son, the innocent soul who had depended on her; Patrick. Every year, every October, as Halloween approached, he consumed her mind. She wondered the kind of life he had carved out for himself, the kind of man he had become and she was forced to remember that she had thwarted any hopes of the reconciliation she desired, to the tune of five million dollars she had paid Patrick to disappear. If only she had disclosed Patrick's existence to Conrad, instead of rebuff his attempt to introduce himself, perhaps she wouldn't have loathed herself quite as much as she did. "I'm like her," Victoria stated matter-of-factly, her head lowered, an indisputable mark of shame.

"This is about your mother." Conrad attempted to piece the entire picture together. Admittedly, he knew very little of the woman who had birthed Victoria Harper. They had met once, briefly, after Victoria miscarried. He was aware of the strain between Marion and Victoria; he often wondered whether the lack of relationship Victoria had with her mother was responsible for the rift between her and Charlotte.

Embarrassed, Victoria dismissed his response, "It doesn't matter, Conrad."

"On the contrary, I think it matters a great deal." Conrad refuted her claim, as she threatened to harden her heart to him. "Whatever it is that you've harboured all these years, obviously still affects you." He had always been respectful of the boundaries she had drawn, and avoided conversation about her mother or childhood. Nevertheless, Conrad had always been curious as to the kind of person Victoria Harper had evolved from. "Perhaps, it would be for the best, if you confronted those demons of yours, once and for all."


	23. Cycles of Abuse

**July 2008 – Southampton, Grayson Manor**

"Well, once again, you've outdone yourself, my dear."

Victoria accepted the glass of Champagne her husband paraded in front of her. "I could say the same of you," she remarked, in a far less complimentary tone. The exclusive community of the Hampton's invaded their summer home for an annual soiree but Daniel did his best to fade into the background.

"That's hardly the way to thank the person who has single-handedly rescued your son, who seems dead-set on hitting the self-destruct button to his entire future." Whatever it was about Daniel, Conrad simply failed to understand why his son and heir seemed determined to deny himself his birth right. He hadn't held it at arm's length and tormented Daniel, forever removing it from his reach, the way his own father had done him. Perhaps, he should have done. Perhaps, he should have forced Daniel to fight for it. Instead, Daniel appeared destined to disrespect the Grayson legacy his own grandfather had created and set forth.

She narrowed her eyes, in suspicion of how truthful his statement had been. "Daniel has barely said one word to either one of us since the two of you returned from court. What on earth happened?"

"I simply reminded Daniel that his future was in as much jeopardy as the young man that stood trial." Nonchalant, Conrad had no remorse for his coercion of Daniel. Though his son had a good heart, he had yet to inherit the sense of self-preservation that Conrad so adored, and reflected, in Victoria. "And he reached the conclusion that testifying would have been against his own best interest."

Victoria scowled at her husband. Father and son had returned home from court, each withdrawing in opposite directions from the other, and had it not been for the last-minute crisis involving the caterers, she would have investigated the matter sooner. "Well... I'd be lying, if I said I wasn't relieved." As her husband had been the one to point out, the relationships Daniel formed during his years at Harvard were crucial, if he hoped to succeed in the big wide world. If he had testified, the consequences could have very well been detrimental to that success. However, one thing Victoria knew for certain was that Conrad lacked tact, specifically when at loggerheads with their son. Each could be as stubborn as the other. "I'll talk to him." No time better than the present, Victoria spied her son slink away from the spotlight, into his father's home office and followed him. "Daniel," her voice filled with concern, as he refilled his drink from the bar. "You've been avoiding me?"

Her words posed more of a statement, than a question, and Daniel didn't deny it. He had been avoiding her, at any cost. Truth be told, he couldn't face her. "Dad said there was some crisis with the party, so –" he shrugged his shoulders, aware how pitiful the excuse of his obvious distant behaviour sounded.

Daniel refused to make eye contact and Victoria angled her head lower. "Is this about what happened at court?" His lack of response was telling and she shut the doors together to ensure their conversation remained private.

"Rather what didn't," he muttered underneath his breath. "I should have testified, mom." Since boyhood, Daniel had always felt safer confiding in his mother. They shared a far stronger bond than the one with his father, perhaps because he had always felt her presence more. "Even if it meant I would suffer the consequences for doing so, I should have told the truth." It was naïve, and Daniel knew it, but he wondered if his peers would have respected his honesty, and refusal to be silenced by the code of honour they shared as fraternity brothers.

"Sweetheart, I understand this weighs heavy on your heart but, truth be known, you are just as clueless as to what happened at that party as your father and I. The fact is that the trial is pure hearsay, his word against hers, and your testimony would have had little influence on the outcome." It was a white lie but Victoria longed to bring Daniel some solace, in the wake of the unsettling events. "You need to put this behind you and concentrate on your own future." While she adored Daniel's great heart, she feared it would be his downfall. It pained her to see how easily he sold himself short, even if it was for the cause of another.

"Mom, you didn't see her." He vehemently protested, the images continuing to haunt his mind. The alleged attack had occurred at a party he had thrown and Daniel had been one of the first to stumble upon the scene. "She was out of it." Her dress hadn't been torn, there were no signs of physical struggle upon her body or the room but she displayed no signs of consciousness either, and no ability to provide consent. "Drew swore to me he didn't drug her but -" he paused, finally able to lock eyes with his mother. He had described the scene to her once before but, much to Daniel's horror, she had aligned herself with his father and advised him against his decision to support the prosecution. At that point, Daniel had believed it to be because the young girl had been from Rockport, hardly the kind of company Daniel regularly kept but, in yet another attempt to rebel, Daniel had made sure news of an open-door party had spread like wildfire. However, Daniel wondered if the entire scenario had hit too close to home for his mother. It certainly had for him. "I know what I saw, mom. Gina was a victim of rape... just like you." The story of sexual abuse Victoria had recounted at the unforgettable thanksgiving dinner the previous year had tucked itself away in the darkest corner of Daniel's mind. He thought of his mother so vulnerable, so exposed... if his moral compass hadn't driven him to ensure that justice was served for Gina, that would have pushed him to.

A lump arose in Victoria's throat and she fought the rising knot in her stomach, "Daniel..."

There wasn't a doubt in his mind that Drew Anderson was guilty of the crime he had been accused of, and would likely escape justice for. He received confirmation, when his fraternity brother bragged of the deed far later. "Gina was attacked here at my party." Daniel persisted his responsibility in the matter.

"It's not your fault," his mother reassuringly remarked.

"Because of my cowardice, justice won't be served. She'll have to live with what happened to her, knowing her attacker was never punished for it." He bowed his head, ashamed of himself, "I did to Gina exactly what your mother did to you all those years ago." He had purposely perverted the course of justice, for no other reason but his own protection, and Gina was left to bear the scars that his mother had remained wounded by.

To hear Daniel compare himself with her mother, Victoria tearfully reached forward and cupped her hand under his chin, to raise his head. "Stop it." She regretted the decision to inadvertently inform Daniel of the horrors her mother had inflicted upon her. It was clear he had struggled with it. "You are not responsible for what happened to that girl, Daniel."

He expected such reassurance from his mother. "I just need you to know that I'm sorry," his hand reached for hers, his expression apologetic. "I wouldn't blame you, if you were ashamed of me for not testifying."

Victoria looped her arms around his neck, crashing her body against his to forcefully embrace him. "I could never be ashamed of you, Daniel, never." She hadn't said it, for fear that he would interpret it as a subtle source of support to testify for the prosecution, but his moral compass brought her such pride. She wondered who, among their family, had inspired it. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Do you understand me?" Reluctantly, Daniel nodded his head in agreement, and Victoria buried her head into his shoulder. "I love you," she whispered.

"As do I," his father's voice commanded the room. No one understood better than Conrad the burden of a father who had the strength to overpower and overwhelm. Thankfully, Victoria was somewhat more strong-willed than his own mother had been and, in that respect, they balanced one another out, complimented each other even. "I know I've been strict, Daniel, but it was in your best interest that you didn't get on that stand." Daniel removed his arm, which had wrapped around his mother's shoulders, and placed both hands into each pocket, his stance hunched over. "Sloane's out there looking for you," Conrad motioned behind the doors, where the party continued without supervision. "Why don't you fly her to Italy for the weekend? Take your mind off the trial, have some time to yourselves... I'll have the Grayson plane on stand-by to jet you away to paradise whenever you give the signal."

Daniel reverted into the kind of silence he would grace his father with when scolded as a child, and retreated back to the party, in search of Sloane. "One of these days, you're not going to be able to buy your way back into his good books," Victoria warned. She recognised how resentful their son had become, not only of their wealth and reputation, but how quick they were to abuse it.

Her husband snickered, dismissive of her ominous words. "Daniel knows better than to bite the hand that feeds him." After the lengths Conrad had lowered himself to, in order to protect his son's heritage, he wouldn't allow anything or _anyone_ to stand in Daniel's way.


	24. Martha's Vineyard

**May 2010 – Martha's Vineyard, Winnetu Oceanside Resort**

The ding of Charlotte's phone disturbed the slumber Victoria had fallen into and her eyes fluttered open, her head rested on her daughter's shoulder, as _Avatar_ played quietly on the television. She caught wind of the irritated expression Charlotte flashed her and sat herself upright, her eyes readjusting to the lighting of the room. "What is it?" Her daughter rapidly skimmed her fingers across the on-screen keyboard, delivering a response to the text she received, before passing her mother the phone. "Oh, Charlotte..."

Nonchalant, Charlotte shrugged her shoulders and rose from the couch they occupied. "I'm over it, mom."

The text displayed on the screen from Tracy, cruelly informed Charlotte that Justin had moved on from their seven-month relationship far quicker than anticipated. Returning the phone to Charlotte's hands, Victoria pushed Charlotte's hair behind her ears and smiled, "He isn't worth your tears, sweetheart."

At that moment, Charlotte longed for her father. He had been the one to comfort her, when Justin callously ended their relationship in a rather public fashion by not bothering to attend her sweet sixteen. Meanwhile, her mother had entertained the hundreds of guests, who were baffled by Charlotte's refusal to attend the lavish celebration. Though, that had been the entire excuse for the mother-daughter weekend at Martha's Vineyard; to heal the remaining wounds of Charlotte's broken heart. "Whatever, mom." The sad truth was that Charlotte had become accustomed to feeling as if she weren't good enough, and her mother was partially responsible for that. For sixteen years, Charlotte had adored and envied her brother in equal measure, wondering why their mother favoured him and made no attempt to hide it. As she studied the picture Tracy had snapped of Justin and another girl, Charlotte concluded that their break-up had been a pre-meditated decision.

* * *

"You're not going to bed already, are you?" Victoria quizzed, as Charlotte emerged from the en-suite in her favourite pair of pyjamas and had French-plaited her hair back from her make-up free face.

"I thought I would have an early night," Charlotte excused herself.

Disappointment clouded Victoria's eyes, "I'm sorry this weekend hasn't been what you expected." She had hoped the mother-daughter semi-vacation would have cheered Charlotte up but her mood remained dampened by the break-up. It would be the first of many heartbreaks, Victoria predicted.

Not wishing to upset her mother, Charlotte shook her head, "Honestly? It's been better than I expected." Before she received Tracy's text, the weekend away from home had been near-perfect. They had visited the infamously pretty 'gingerbread cottages' in Oaks Bluff, shared picturesque hikes along the Menemsha Hills and inspected the exotic Myoti Japanese gardens. The experiences were ones Charlotte would treasure forever, if only for the fact that Victoria rarely dedicated her time solely to Charlotte.

"Why don't you stay up a little longer?" Her mother patted the empty space in the double bed beside her. "We can tell each other the peak and pit of our weekend." A small smile broke out onto Charlotte's lips at the suggestion of the tradition that her grandmother had started.

Charlotte eagerly crawled onto the bed and crossed her legs underneath her, "You start."

"Alright. The peak of my trip was horseback riding on the beach." Victoria recalled, as Charlotte dug into the open packet of jolly ranchers they had indulged in throughout the movie earlier. "The pit is that we're leaving tomorrow. I wish we had decided to stay longer." Though summer in the Hampton's was their annual vacation, Victoria found it impossible to remain in Grayson Manor for four uninterrupted months, and she appreciated the excuse to flee from the painful memories her beloved home held. "What about yours, darling?" She asked, reaching into the packet for her favourite flavour of the hard-boiled sweet.

"My peak was seeing the campgrounds at Oaks Bluff," Charlotte recalled the storybook-like gingerbread cottages that she and her mother had toured the previous afternoon. "But the pit of my trip was that daddy couldn't be here." The mention of Conrad threatened to sour Victoria's good mood but, for the sake of her daughter, she contained her disdain for her husband. At her request, or rather demand, Conrad had fabricated an urgent crisis at Grayson Global, to ensure she and Charlotte would be alone for the weekend. Luckily, he was happy enough to do so, if it strengthened the bond between mother and daughter.

Her mother forced a smile of agreement with the statement. There were brief moments when their marriage appeared solvent, even to her, and Charlotte had yet to truly comprehend the contempt she and Conrad had for one another. "Well, perhaps, once your father and Daniel deal with whatever crisis they have at Grayson Global, the four of us can visit together."

Wary of how much her parents antagonised one another, Charlotte was relieved her mother didn't say more on the subject. In family conflict, Daniel always supported their mother and Charlotte remained her father's biggest cheerleader. "Did Daniel tell you that he and Sloane broke up?"

Welcome to the change of subject, Victoria shook her head and freely expressed her frustration. "He didn't have to, I heard about the break-up from Sloane's mother." Worse still, Sloane's mother had informed Victoria that gossips were intrigued by the recent company her son had kept. Rumour had it, Daniel had become romantically involved with a young woman named Sara Munello and, after digging into her affairs, it became obvious why Victoria didn't instantly recognise the name.

"There's a lot of that going around lately, huh?" Charlotte muttered, her question purely rhetorical.

"Well, you know how your brother can be." The break-up wasn't out of the usual, considering Daniel's pattern of behaviour. Every now and then, he would rebel against the Grayson name, whether it meant drunkenly crashing her annual Christmas celebration or purposely failing assignments in high-school. "I'm sure they'll work it out." At least, Victoria hoped they would. The couple had been a perfect fit, after they met at Harvard, and Victoria had adored Sloane since Daniel brought her home for the summer after their freshman year. "Besides, relationships should be nothing more than trivial at such a young age, and that goes for you, too." It absolutely terrified her that Charlotte had reached the age when most girls searched for their first mature relationship, especially given her own experiences in the matter.

"I'm sorry I haven't been better company," Charlotte apologised. She had been utterly depressed since the break-up but the fact that her mother had made viable efforts to soothe that pain had secretly delighted her. As a young girl, she had craved the kind of adoration her mother happily showered Daniel with, so much so that she had endured hours upon hours of piano tutorials and horse riding lessons to impress her. It always seemed to be a fruitless endeavour.

"Nonsense. I adore spending time with you." Victoria dismissed her daughter's self-depreciation, "Why don't you pick out another film?"

"On one condition," Charlotte happily agreed and her mother looked expectantly for her to name her term. "Promise not to snore your way through this one?" Victoria flashed a playful scowl, as Charlotte dissolved into giggles and flicked through the selections of films available on the television.


	25. The Accident

**August 2010 – Southampton, Grayson Manor**

"Might I suggest you slow down?" Conrad chastised Victoria, as she silently ordered that her drink be refreshed at one of the poolside bars temporarily manufactured to cater for the Hamptonites that flooded their seasonal home for yet another elaborate Grayson celebration.

His wife rolled her eyes, disdainful of his interference. "Conrad, there are over two hundred guests in our home. Surely, you can find someone among them who would take pleasure in your company. I, however, am not one of them." She rebuffed his attempt to reach out, certain he would revel in the latest source of her misery, especially as the bond she shared with their son threatened to shatter.

He followed her line of vision to the other side of the pool, where Daniel stood at another bar. It seemed mother and son both intended to drown their sorrows in a public fashion. "Why don't you talk to him?" Conrad advised. It wasn't out of the ordinary for the Grayson household to be divided. If he and Victoria weren't in the midst of a quarrel, he bickered with Daniel. Their children often battled one another, the mother-daughter relationship remained strenuous and Charlotte even rebelled against his instruction every now and again, but Victoria and Daniel's relationship had always been solid.

As his parents became embroiled in a hostile spat, Daniel hoisted another drink back and signalled the bartender for a refill. Beside him, Sara had become wary of his increasingly drunken behaviour. She had started to wonder if, perhaps, her attendance had been a foolish mistake. From the moment she stepped foot in the manor, she had felt like a duck out of water. It wasn't her natural habitat, and it showed. "Danny, maybe we should just leave?"

"And play into her hands?" Daniel stubbornly shook his head. He wouldn't dare allow Victoria the satisfaction. His mother had voiced her disapproval of his relationship with Sara – which she described as a 'summer romance' – but Daniel had been foolishly convinced that his mother would be charmed by her. Now, he inwardly scolded himself for his naiveté. The majority of his friends liked her, and Charlotte had instantly warmed to her, after the three of them had hiked to the Montauk Point Lighthouse one afternoon, but his mother flat-out refused to meet her. It had been the reason Daniel insisted Sara attend his mother's lavish celebration, to enforce an introduction between the women but Victoria had swiftly avoided each and every attempt. While his father had seemed entirely indifferent on the matter, which didn't bother Daniel quite so much, his mother's behaviour had bordered on cruel. Her attitude toward Sara had caused Daniel to view her in a whole other light, one that didn't quite flatter her. For Daniel, it was quite possibly the first time he found himself in accordance with his father. To encounter just how callous his mother could be had startled him, it was a revelation he had been unprepared for.

"Danny," Sara probed further, in the hopes she could placate him. Instead, her words only sparked another eruption of fury within Daniel, and he walked behind the bar to retrieve an unopened bottle of Vodka. Little did Sara realise the kind of family she had the misfortune to wander into.

* * *

As his wife and son became a public spectacle, in front of the Grayson Global investors present, Lydia's smile from afar was Conrad's only source of comic relief.

"I love her, mom." Daniel protested, more than likely oblivious to the volume his voice had reached. What had started as minor discord had escalated into world war three and threatened to undermine the sounds of the live band hired for the event. Guests present did their best to pretend not to notice the brawl but it was merely a polite façade on their part. As helpless as Conrad, Daniel's date remained awkwardly in the exact position his son had abandoned her at. While Conrad failed to deduce exactly why Victoria had shown such contempt for Daniel's latest accomplishment, he couldn't deny that the petite brunette was anything but Grayson material. Unlike Victoria, who had only alienated Daniel, as a result of her effort, Conrad found little reason to intervene in the relationship that would run its inevitable course to a natural conclusion.

Suddenly, words inaudible to Conrad, provoked Daniel's temper to inflate and his son disengaged from the confrontation. Infuriated, Daniel tore from his mother and stormed recklessly in Sara's direction. Her efforts to soothe him failed miserably, and Daniel grasped her hand, dragging her as far from Grayson Manor as physically possible. "Daniel," Sara hesitantly cried, as he jumped into the driver seat of the Porsche presented to him for his birthday by his father, earlier that summer. The rev of the automatic left her little option and Sara climbed into the seat beside him.

* * *

Regardless of the warm summer air, Victoria shivered with fear as she and Conrad sat, paralysed, in the waiting room of Suffolk Memorial Hospital. The phone call that Daniel had been a casualty in a severe car accident had quickly sobered her. As the hospital prepped for the arrival of the injured, the only information released to the family of the incoming patients was that one individual in the white Porsche had suffered potential paralysis of the spinal cord. To Conrad's relief, Charlotte arrived at the hospital, before Victoria dissolved into complete hysteria.

Enveloped in one another's arms, Victoria and Charlotte were seemingly oblivious to the body of doctors that Conrad noticed had started to congregate in anticipation of an arrival. In a split-second, the doors burst open and two paramedics hurriedly wheeled the gurney beyond Conrad's vision. "22 year old female. Head-on collision. Severe spinal injury, multiple lacerations to the face and arms. Victim identified as Sara Munello."

The Grayson family leapt to their feet, shaken by the unstable condition Sara had arrived in. Blood stained the white sheet of the gurney and her facial features were barely visible underneath the neck brace locked on her upper form. The only thing that quelled their fears was that someone had positively identified Sara, which suggested Daniel was, at the very least, conscious. Finally, the doors crashed open again. Although the paramedics didn't move with the same kind of panic, the concern in their voices appeared evident. "We have a 22 year old male involved in a head-on collision. No signs of injury to the neck or spinal cord." A wave of calm washed over Conrad, and he released the breath he didn't realise he had contained. "In and out of consciousness. Possible concussion caused by wound to the left side of the head."

The doctors dashed into the allocated trauma room, which one of the nurses sealed off, when Victoria made a visible attempt to follow her son. "Daniel?"

"Victoria, he's okay." Conrad reached forward and prevented her from tearing through the 'restricted access' doors to heal their son herself. "He's in good hands. He's going to be fine." Motioning for Charlotte with an open arm, who tucked herself underneath it, Conrad held his family.

Fifteen minutes passed before one of the doctors on-call appeared oddly remorseful in his approach. "How's my son?" With little awareness of personal boundaries, Victoria invaded his personal space and left just inches between them.

"Daniel's stable. His wounds are superficial. I have no doubt, they'll heal completely, within a few weeks."

As Victoria revelled in the absolute confirmation that Daniel had not been harmed with life-threatening injuries, Conrad remained aware of the cloud to the silver lining the doctor had delivered. "But..." He purposely needled the doctor and Victoria's eyes flew toward him, in horror.

"Daniel has been in and out of consciousness since his arrival. Initially, we thought it due to the minor wound to his head –" In an awkward fashion, the doctor folded his arms across his chest and bowed his head, somewhat embarrassed to be the one to deliver the news to such a prominent family of the area. "Your son has a blood alcohol level of .15." Disappointed, if not entirely surprised, to discover Daniel had been the driver, while under the influence of alcohol, Conrad lifted his head to the heavens above and heavily exhaled. "In light of the seriousness of the injuries sustained by both Daniel and Miss Munello, we are required to contact the authorities." Mentally, Conrad listed the actions necessary in the looming 24 hours to ensure Daniel's accident didn't explode into yet another Grayson family scandal for the press to feed on. "I would like to keep him here overnight, just for the sake of observation but, other than that, I see no reason why Daniel shouldn't be released by tomorrow afternoon, at the latest."

"I want to see my son." Victoria demanded, seemingly unconcerned by his announcement.

"As I said, Daniel's in and out of consciousness –" The doctor paused mid-sentence, as Victoria dared him to defy her request. Being well-experienced in the emergency room, he had endured more than his fair share of confrontational family members, as emotions ran high and he had learnt when to compromise his judgement. "If you can keep the visit short, two family members at the most."

Naturally, Charlotte anticipated her parents would assume the position but Conrad ushered her to Victoria. "Go with your mother, Charlotte." He reached into his pocket and retrieved his cell, "I have to call to make first." Once his family left in search of Daniel's room, Conrad motioned to the doctor. "While, I respect your duty to contact the authorities, I would appreciate it if you could ensure they hold off the investigation until my son has fully recuperated." Whatever state Daniel may have driven in, Conrad needed to compile an appropriate version of events to swing the situation in their favour. With Daniel's future at risk, Conrad was determined not to allow his hard work, and the hard work of his father before him, to be for naught.


	26. The End and The Beginning

**February 2011 – Miami, Grayson Villa**

"Mrs Grayson, allow me to introduce Ashley Davenport."

Nerves almost overwhelmed Ashley, as the raven-haired woman stretched her hand forward. "It's a pleasure, Miss Davenport."

"Please, call me Ashley," she swallowed the lump in her throat, when Victoria failed to return the sentiment. Whatever it was about the woman before her, who had been heralded as the ice queen of the Hampton's, Ashley felt wholeheartedly intimidated. She wondered, for a second, exactly what she had let herself in for. Many had forewarned her that Victoria Grayson was the devil incarnate and a tyrant to be employed by.

"Welcome to our home." Victoria flashed a smile that Ashley almost believed to be sincere. "I trust Heather's given you the grand tour." The blonde beside Ashley enthusiastically nodded her head, and Ashley wondered what feat Heather had accomplished to have been on a first-name basis with the matriarch. "I must say, your resumè is an impressive one, Miss Davenport." Truthfully, Victoria had shown little interest in the new recruit. "I'll be sorry to lose Heather," she affectionately brushed Heather's bare arm, somewhat envious of the blonde who had relinquished her position for the lifetime of marital bliss ahead of her. "But I'm certain you'll prove to be a more than satisfactory replacement." Victoria searched Ashley's dark, almond eyes and wondered what was hidden behind her pretty exterior. "I understand you're from London. You're quite a ways from home."

"Croydon, to be specific, and the further, the better." Ashley candidly replied, her smile as charismatic as her pretentious British accent.

The three women were interrupted by Conrad's arrival, "Ah, what do we have here?"

"This is Miss Davenport, Heather's replacement for the summer." Victoria introduced Ashley, who had already been pre-informed of who's-who within the Grayson family by Heather, but did her best to pretend otherwise. "My husband, Conrad Grayson." A vital piece of information Heather had bestowed upon Ashley was that Conrad and Victoria Grayson's marriage of almost twenty-five years was anything but conventional. The environment was malevolent and Heather suspected both husband and wife had committed adultery, possibly for the majority of their relationship.

"It's an honour to meet you, Mr Grayson."

"Likewise, Miss Davenport." As Conrad admired the exotic beauty, he wondered why each one of Victoria's personal assistants seemed to become more and more attractive each time she fired and re-hired. Perhaps, it was some attempt to test his loyalty to her. Little did she know of the affair he had continued with Lydia for almost a decade. "My dear, may I speak with you in private?" Impressively, Ashley and Heather both made a quick exit, in order to allow husband and wife the privacy they desired, and Conrad motioned to the door they had exited. "Well..." he exhaled, his displeasure in the situation clear. Their relationship had threatened to hit the brink, their unhappiness a little too much to bear, and Conrad had lost the will to make any effort but a retreat to their villa on Fisher Island had been her idea. Stupidly, he had believed she hoped to keep their family solvent. "A weekend away, she said. Just the two of us?" It was supposed to be an early Valentine's celebration but Conrad should have known it was another hoax. Still, at least, their brief vacation made use of their Miami residence, which Daniel often exploited for spring break; a performance he would not be permitted to repeat, after his faux-pas in the summer.

"Oh, Conrad, don't be so dramatic." Victoria diminished his sense of disillusionment, "Heather handed me her notice before Christmas. It's out of pure kindness that she stayed until we found a suitable replacement." The tone of her voice alluded that the matter had been out of her control but Conrad knew her distinct need for control, which meant she had no intention of the weekend to be an act of reconciliation.

"Victoria, after what happened with Daniel last summer, we promised to make more of an effort." He reminded her, of the various promises they had made in the family therapy sessions he had reluctantly attended. It had been part of the deal, which prevented Daniel from penal punishment for his D.U.I..

"And we will," his wife lied.

Unconvinced, Conrad belittled the matter in his mind and reached for his cell. "Speaking of Daniel, have you heard the latest?" Somewhat ashamed, Victoria avoided her husband's eye and shook her head. After the accident, and his parents' effort to protect him from jail, Daniel had returned early to Harvard and done his best to avoid his mother. Victoria was certain he blamed her for his decision to drive drunk, so much so that she partially blamed herself, too. Nearly six months had passed, and mother and son had barely shared a conversation beyond the essential. Even the holiday season had been sombre for Victoria and Daniel. It was unpleasant to witness for Conrad, who recognised how much the rejection stung Victoria. "I spoke with him earlier. He said he's applied for a four-month summer internship with a company based in Beijing and he thinks there's every chance they'll employ him."

"Well, I hope you told him how proud we are of him." Defeated, Victoria sensed Daniel's decision had been more of an opportunity to ensure he would not be forced to endure another summer with her. It only drew them further apart. She wondered, if they would ever reconcile their relationship.

"I did," Conrad confirmed, to ease her maternal instinct. If he ever doubted his love for Victoria, it was only confirmed by how affected he became whenever his wife expressed her sadness and Conrad found himself moved to protect her. Unquestionably, the opportunity would be one rich in culture and marketable in business for Daniel, but Conrad decided, in that moment, to solely ensure Daniel would not receive the internship. Rejected, Daniel would have little choice to confront the hitch in his relationship with Victoria and, selfishly, Conrad would have Daniel as his stand-in at Grayson Global.

His wife composed herself and forced a pleasant smile. "Heather, Ashley?" Immediately, the ladies appeared at her command. "Ashley, I don't think it's too early to start preparations for your first project." The ingénue clasped her hands and nodded her head, keen to prove herself. The annual Memorial Day party was the first event of the summer season in Southampton and Ashley's head became dizzy with inspiration. "Why don't you join me in the conservatory, once you've shown Heather to the door?" Her cool dismissal sent Ashley and Heather from the room and Victoria retreated to the conservatory, which overlooked the bay to the North Atlantic ocean. In the blink of an eye, she would find herself back in the Hampton's for another summer. She could only hope it would be less of a disaster than the previous summer her family had endured.

* * *

"Good luck." Heather wished Ashley all the best, before she sped away in the luxury Mercedes her husband-to-be had purchased for her. Hers was the kind of success story Ashley desired, in her conquest of the uber-wealthy socialites that collected in the Hampton's every summer.

Alone on the driveway, Ashley admired the flamboyant Grayson residence with triumph; if Heather was to be believed, it paled in comparison to the size of Grayson Manor. Without hesitation, Ashley reached for her cell and searched for the contact she had in mind. On the fourth buzz, the sweet voice of Emily Thorne answered her call. "Ashley, hey, how are you?"

"Thank God you answered," Ashley hurriedly replied, aware she had little time until Victoria would beckon her. "Ems, you won't believe where I am."

"Where are you?"

"Fisher Island, Miami." The squeal in her tone confirmed what Emily had already discovered for herself. "She hired me, Emily. You are currently on the phone with Victoria Grayson's P.A.," she proudly announced. They hadn't known one another for more than a few months, since they volunteered at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, but Emily had befriend her instantly and Ashley loved her like a sister. It was the reason Ashley had called Emily first, ahead of her mother, who would only openly disapprove of her new found employment.

"Didn't I tell you she would?" Emily positively reminded, "Well done, Ash. I'm happy for you!"

"I still can't believe it." Ashley confessed, one step closer to what she lusted after. The lifestyle she would dabble in was far from the one she had been raised in back in Croydon. "Get yourself ready for an unforgettable summer in the Hampton's, Emily Thorne!"

As Ashley ended the call, Emily slyly smiled to herself, "Looking forward to it."


End file.
